


Absit Omen

by Midnight_Ophelia



Series: Memento Mori [2]
Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, F/M, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, because WOTC likes to be annoyingly vague, playing fast and loose with the timeline, shoutout to SoI for firmly throwing this story into the realm of Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4336022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnight_Ophelia/pseuds/Midnight_Ophelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several years after the battle for Zendikar, Sorin returns home to find that the uneasy balance he fought to keep in place has deteriorated in his absence, worse than last. Civil war has broke out among the humans, and the creatures of the dark take advantage.  Even with the aid of Avacyn and a handful of possible allies, the damage may never be truly restored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Against my better judgement, after I finished Memento Mori I realized that there was a lot I wanted to cover and a lot more ideas I had for it. My compromise was to make a multi-chapter to be able to do everything I wanted and hopefully keep things interesting. Now, you don't really _need_ to read Memento Mori to read this, but there will be some references and a character that carries over from it. 
> 
> Either way, I hope you few that read this enjoy it.
> 
>  
> 
> **EDIT: I've gone through all the chapters up so far, edited them, and changed them to present tense. After rereading them recently to get back into the right headspace, I realized my writing reads a hell of a lot better this way.**

The events of Zendikar and its effects have long since passed, and the Multiverse is slowly beginning to mend from the ordeal. It'll be far harder for Zendikar itself to recover. The battle against the Eldrazi had been a long and hard fought one and there had been many losses along the way, which effected everyone that had been involved in it. There was more than just physical wounds suffered.

Of course, it wasn't all bad; there had been some valuable acquaintances made as well that would prove to be very useful in the years to come.

One such acquaintance is what leads Sorin Markov, a vampire lord from haunted plane of Innistrad, to Ravniva and to the sanctum of the so-called Living Guildpact. None of the citizens take notice as he walks among them, slipping through the crowd like a ghost. His aura shrouds his presence from anyone who might take concern with a vampire being among them. They won't be aware that he's even here in the first place.

It doesn't take Sorin long to find the Guildpact's sanctum, as well hidden as it may be with the mind mage's magic. He walks in and sees him sitting at his desk, surrounded by piles of paperwork that has gone ignored for much longer than it probably should have been. He can barely see the man -more a boy in Sorin's eyes- over it all. Sorin drops his cloaking and allows himself to be sensed by him.

“I'm glad that you got my message. I wasn't sure that you would.” Jace Beleren looks up to meet Sorin's intense stare, lips twisting upwards in some bare resemblance of a smile. Utterly exhausted. “You're a difficult man to get a hold of.”

“And you've neglected your paperwork. I don't envy you.” Sorin steps forward into the shadows of the sanctum, glad to be out of the direct and glaring sunlight. His fingers trace over the piles of paper, making out some complaint or another from various guilds in his peripheral. His eyes flicker up to study Jace's youthful face, noting the stress lines around and between his eyes. “Am I to take it that you have news, then?”

Jace nods, leaning back in his high-backed chair. The wood creaks with the movement and so does his back. He winces and rubs at it. “I dropped by Innistrad a bit ago. I hate to say it, but things have gotten...rough.”

Sorin's ever present frown deepens. “Go on,” he says, weary already. He should have known.

“Well,” Jace fiddles with a paper, clearly trying to figure out a way to best say what's on his mind without angering the ancient vampire in the room, “there's been in-fighting between the humans. As you can imagine, all sorts of creatures are taking advantage of this. The angels are trying to keep the peace, but they're having a hard time of it. It's hard to cast enough protective magic when half the plane is fighting against each other..”

Sorin lets out a heavy sigh. It's always something. The moment things appear to have gotten on track it inevitably all comes crashing back down. He's been so busy dealing with the fallout of Zendikar and the Eldrazi, and his hunt for Nahiri that he hasn't had the time to think about his home plane. This is obviously the payback for being so inattentive.

“Thank-you for alerting me.” Sorin's already halfway out the door.

“Be careful when you go back there,” Jace warns. “I don't have a very good feeling about this. You're powerful, but even you aren't immune to danger.”

“I'm aware,” Sorin replies, coolly. He thinks back to Zendikar.

“I know. I'm just saying. I think there's something more sinister happening then meets the eye.”

“Isn't there always.”

It's an ominous prospect, Sorin thinks as he lets the room fade into the Blind Eternities.

* * *

He expects much when he reappears on Innistrad, but he doesn't quite plan for a direct attack against his person the very moment he sets a foot down near a village. He hasn't even had a chance to right himself from the trip, let alone cast any protective spells before he's dodging a sword that swings uncomfortably close to his neck.

His skin prickles uncomfortably. Silver. Wonderful.

“Monster,” one of the men attacking him spats, stepping back and readying another swing. There's at least five Cathars, all armed to the teeth and trying to look as intimidating as they can manage. It's not a very effective.

Humans are not the most original when it comes to their threats.

The hand Sorin raises is surrounded by a cloud of sickly purple, and he gestures outwards in a sinuous motion, ghastly words whispering from his lips. The man closest to him begins to scream and claw at his throat as if air-starved. Seconds later he collapses into a pile of withered, rotting flesh and weathered bones. Sorin looks to the survivors and raises an eyebrow, daring them to try and make another move against him.

They take a step towards him, uncertain, weapons raised as if they'd do any good at all.

“Oh, yes, please do,” he urges with a small, wicked smirk. Bloodlust sings through his chest in anticipation.

Sorin, for all his long-sightedness, fails to notice one thing, not until the ramifications have already been set into motion.

With a snarl, Sorin jumps back to avoid a blast of white magic coming at him from behind.

Something hits. It's been a long while since a weapon has touched his skin. He had forgotten how much it hurts. The dagger is short and very sharp with enchantment and it slips between armor plating and the leather beneath. It slashes deep into his skin, deep enough that he knows it's sliced down to the muscle.

Sorin staggers back, clutching at his side as blood drips through his fingers. Anger and pain fuels him as he lifts his hand again with a snarl and sends another Cather falling much like the first.

As Sorin tries to reorient, the mage that's caused this situation appears at his side and hits him with a stunning spell. He tries to shake it out of his head. There's too much happening at once. The remaining Cathars and the mage converge on him. One pulls out a pair of silver bands and uses the opportunity still to clasp them around Sorin's wrists.

Sorin feels it the moment they're on him; the connection between him and the mana of Innistrad is severed.

He needs to leave. He can't fight in this condition. Without the use of his mana to cast spells and the wound to his side, he will only be father hindered. The only real choice he has is to try and planeswalk away and hope he doesn't end up in a worse spot then he's already in. Focusing, Sorin wills himself into the Blind Eternities again for only a moment, long enough to remove himself from that area. He thinks of a familiar house and pictures it as clearly as he can in his mind, hoping that he will appear there.

When he materializes, he finds himself staring at it and relaxes slightly. Dumb luck that it's worked. Planeswalking has never been an exact art. He's not going to question why it's worked now, and instead goes to the door and knocks.

Sorin hopes that she's still here.

* * *

Valeria can't sleep. She lays on her side with her eyes closed as she listens to the sounds of fighting in the distance. She knows that all her neighbors are hearing the same thing she is if they're still awake as she is.

Innistrad's on the brink of civil war and that makes it difficult to find any peace at all.

Restlessly, she shifts onto her back with a deep sigh, hands crossed over her belly.

It's when she's just on the verge of finally falling asleep she hears it; the sharp, but firm, knock at the door downstairs. Her eyes snap open and she sits up, blinking as they try to adjust to the room's darkness. Frowning, Valeria reaches over to pick up a small knife that she keeps beside her bed for safety and stands up slowly. She grabs her dressing gown and pulls it over her nightdress before making her way downstairs and to the door, opening it hesitantly, unsure of what will meet her on the other side.

What she doesn't expect is to see _him_ standing there to meet her.

Sorin appears much like he had when she'd first met him, not that she expected anything else from such an ageless creature. Aristocratically handsome features and a pair alien eyes that perfectly mark him out for what he is.. Although, there's a lack of a haughty or annoyed expression where she remembers it being and instead she can see barely hidden pain. Her gaze shifts from his face downwards until she sees what the cause is. Blood trickles between his red-stained fingers.

“Sorin?” Valeria asks. Her eyes go back to his face. She's confused and concerned. “How-”

“Valeria,” Sorin cuts her off, his tone clipped with quickly dwindling patience. “Could we continue this inside?”

Valeria blinks as she realizes that he's standing there, bleeding, while she's questioning him. She takes a step back to give him space. “Please, do.”

Sorin brushes closely past her and the hairs on the back of her neck rises. She watches him as he quickly locates on of her chairs sitting near the fire place and lowers himself into it with barely a wince.

“How did this happen?” Valeria asks in full this time, forcing herself to close the door and find supplies while Sorin slowly bleeds out in her parlor. The absolute last thing she needs this night is for him to die in her house.

“Complications,” he replies cryptically, tiredly, his golden eyes following her movements as she moves about. It's deeply unsettling. “A miscalculation on my part. Stupid, really.”

“I see.” Valeria comes over to his side with a handful of bandages and a small tin that she keeps her needle and thread in, just in case. She sits them down and grabs another chair, pulling it over to his side. He hasn't asked her for help, but that doesn't really matter. He won't last long without treatment if that wound keeps bleeding like this. She stares at him for a moment as she takes her own seat. “I need you to take this,” she gestures to his coat and armor, “off.”

Sorin stands up stiffly -Valeria realizing as she watches that she should have asked him to do this _before_ he sat down- and slowly begins to remove his clothes, leaving him naked from the waist up. Beneath all the leather and metal is taut muscle and an expanse of more pale gray flesh pulled over it. Less clothing doesn't make him look any less formidable. He could still probably break her in half if he wanted to even if he'd been human with a build like that.

There are a few scars scattered over him here and there from various battles he'd been involved in over his many years, but none quite as noticeable as the one between where his shoulder starts and his neck ends. Valeria has seen enough marks like that on victims to know that it's a vampire's bite. No doubt that it's the one that had created him.

Valeria pulls her gaze away from it and to his wound. It looks rather deep, as far as she can see just from looking at it, and made by a rather nasty dagger. Enchanted to be sharper than normal, no doubt. Her eyes move from that to the silver bands encircling his wrists. There appear to be some sort of arcane language carved into them that she can't read.

She points at them. “What are those?”

Sorin examen's the bands with an ugly scowl, tugging at one. “Cathars and a mage. They managed to wound and get these on me.” He pulls harder with a wince. “They've locked away my access to mana. I barely...”

He cuts himself off, looking disgusted with himself for a situation he clearly has no control over.

Valeria feels bad for him. Being caught off guard as he had been and his magic effectively muzzled has been a blow to his very much masculine pride. Human or vampire, it doesn't matter. Pride is pride.

She dabs at his wound with a damp cloth, trying to wipe away some of the blood to better examine it, and Sorin lets out a pained hiss through his teeth. Valeria's something flash through his eyes that might be hunger, but it's hard to tell for certain. It disappears just as quickly as it shows. She decides it's better to pretend that she hadn't seen that. Instead, she opts to initiate conversation as a distraction. If he'll participate it'll be easier.

“I wasn't sure when you were going to visit me again, if ever,” she says casually, being gentle with her task. “Things have gone rather pear-shaped while you were gone. You may have noticed.”

“I was busy until now,” Sorin replies, relaxing only slightly. “I had other, more important things to deal with.”

“Yes,” Valeria agrees, “being a Planeswalker does seem to be hard work.”

Sorin's sharp look makes her flinch away. “How do you know that?”

“There's been rumors.” Valeria swallows nervously. “They started spreading a bit ago ago, shortly after Avacyn's return. Slowly at first, and then more quickly, getting more and more outrageous with each one. I have no idea where they've been coming from, only that they've mostly involved you.”

The terse expression turns weary. “What, exactly?”

“Along the lines that Avacyn is your creation and that our religion is built on falsehoods.” That had been the biggest shock and the locals hadn't taken that well. If they'd had a crisis of faith when she'd vanished , Valeria isn't sure what to call it now. “And then there's the one about the vampires, the first vampires, had been human once. Vampires are created originally by demonic magic. Or, so the rumors go.”

“Ah,” Sorin supplies quietly, obviously more to himself than to Valeria.

“Are they true?” she asks, stopping her task to meet his eyes. “You're the second eldest vampire here, aren't you? That was another rumor. That old Edgar Markov is a relation of yours and that he's the one that created vampires.”

She can tell that he wants to deny her, mulling over what he's at liberty to say, but after a long moment, he nods. “Yes, it's true.”

“Okay,” she says with a small smile. “I should be more concerned, honestly. I should be as frightened as everyone else is of you, but I guess I'm still as naive as I was as a child. I don't think you created Avacyn and our religion as a bad thing. You gave us hope in this world. You help us fight against your own people. It's better than to be wiped out, isn't it?”

It's something she's been thinking about since she had first heard those stories. When Avacyn had gone missing every malevolent creature on Innistrad had taken advantage of it, attacking humans, playing with them like a cat and mouse. Ever since she had been restored things have gone back to the way they should have been. Although, these rumors have stirred the pot again and now humans are fighting other humans, more than ever. All because their angel was created by a vampire. It seems silly to her. He clearly meant nothing harmful towards them if he was willing to be loathed by his own to protect humans.

Sorin doesn't respond her her question, lost in the mire of his own thoughts.

Deciding to not press the subject, Valeria threads a needle and begins to sew up the long cut. She briefly considers just using magic and healing it that way, but she isn't sure that it would work on vampires. She's never tried before. She wishes that she had paid more attention to her studies...

“There, done,” Valeria announces after a few minutes of work and quiet, tying off the ends of the thread. “I don't need to tell you to be careful not to rip the stitches.”

“Thank-you,” Sorin murmurs.

He stands up, careful not to strain too much, and towers again over Valeria's messily 5'2”. She hadn't really grown over the years and now at twenty, she highly doubts that she's going to get any taller.

It's...surreal, this whole thing. Valeria has to admit that her first time meeting Sorin had made quite the impact on her then thirteen year old mind. He had saved her life, this handsome prince of the vampires. It really hadn't been a surprise that an infatuation had bloomed afterwards. Her parents, upon finding out what had happened, had been utterly horrified. Why couldn't she have taken an interest in the local, and more importantly, _human_ boys?

Valeria had learned to be very good at ignoring the comments and the looks that she had received from those who had learned about the encounter and her “ _calf love_ ”. In their eyes she was an eccentric girl who grew up to be an eccentric woman who was pretty and intelligent, but unable to gain a husband. Her feelings for him had waned as the years had gone by without another meeting with him, but the damage had been done nonetheless.

And now here she is, standing in her little home, her only inheritance after her parents had died, with that man who had been the cause of it. Half-naked, mind you. The realization dawns on her and her face heats up in embarrassment. What makes it worse is that he's lifted a eyebrow. The bastard.

He takes a step towards her and Valeria stumbles back. He's trying to get a rise out of her, she knows, and it's working.

Sorin chuckles and abruptly turns back to the chair.

“So,” Valeria clears her throat, wringing her hands. “What are you going to do about...?”

The humor disappears and Sorin picks up his things, going about redressing. “First, I need to find who started these 'rumors'.”

“How?”

“By hunting them down.” He pulls his coat on over his shoulders and pins Valeria under his stare. “And when I find them, I'll kill them for it.”

Valeria shivers at the threat in his voice. “Oh.”

Sorin sees it.

“Not so appealing now, am I?” he drawls.

Valeria suddenly wants to throw the bloody towel at his face.

~*~

Sorin rests his chin in his hand as he stares out the grimy window, watching the wind pull at the bare limbs of a Hawthorne tree. He had wanted to leave as soon as possible, however, when he had made an attempt to do so, Valeria had insisted -cornered him- that he remain there until he had somewhat healed. He hadn't been happy about it, but realized that he really didn't have the energy to argue with her. She had given him this small, drafty room as a place to sleep for the interim even as she apologized for less-than-elegant state.

His wound throbs as he moves from the window seat to his bed, but he ignores any discomfort it gives him, and lays down on the lumpy bed. The candles that light the room flickers wanly, nearly going out, as a particularly large gust smacks against the outside wall. A heartbeat later, it begins to downpour. The rain beats against the window, forming a curtain of gray. It's probably going to rain all night, which suits Sorin just fine; he always slept better when it rained.

While he lays there, he thinks about what he will do once he leaves Valeria's home. He has every intention on going about what he had suggested to her; he's going to hunt down those who started this mess and kill them in very creative ways. He has, after all, a fairly good idea on who's responsible. He doesn't have one hundred percent proof that his hunch is correct, but it makes sense.

Edgar Markov hasn't spoken with Sorin since he had created Avacyn and there's no doubt in Sorin's mind that if anyone has reason to paint a target on his forehead, it would be his grandfather. Any love that Edgar might have had towards him has long since vanished into the aether.

It's no great loss on his part; Sorin's grudges are legendary and this particular grudge has had centuries to stew.

  
  



	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He was looking at her intently, studying her face like she was a puzzle to be solved. Valeria wasn't sure why this was when out of the two of them, he, so far, had proven to be the bigger mystery._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughghghghhgg, sorry that it took me over a month to finally update this. I've been fairly busy of late with everyone and their mother wanting me to socialize and the job hunting. When I did have a day home I was just too tired to write more than maybe a couple hundred words, so needless to say it was very slow going. On top of that I write most of my stuff longhand, which means that I write even slower. With my ADD it's just easier for me to do it that way, despite the slower pace.
> 
> Anyhow, here's the chapter. Once again, sorry for the delay.

Liliana Vess was far from happy as she had appeared back in Innistrad, the closest place she had to a home. For once the familiar gloom had done little to improve her sour mood. She hadn't exactly wanted to be there, but her hand had been forced, much to her eternal frustration. She had long since grown tired of being used by others. Unfortunately, she needed to do this if she were to do what she was intending on doing. Only, she would much rather be somewhere else. Maybe on a sunny plane, sipping fine wine on a beach and without any worries. Anywhere that wasn't near here.

Which is what brings her to where 'here' is, sitting in a elegant bedroom, glaring holes into the door and causing creases to mar her beautiful face. Realizing this, she schools her expression to a more relaxed one. Not that it makes much of a difference.

All of this trouble just to find her final demon. When this is all said and done she will finally be free to do as she pleases without fear of retaliation. What a lovely possibility.

A knock on the door pulls her out of her thoughts and she straightens. “Yes, what is it?” she asks sharply, crossing her arms below her ample chest.

The double doors swing open and an elegant woman dressed in black leather struts in. Her bare feet peeking out from under the hem of her dress are silent on the stone floor. She gives Liliana a quick smile, flashing bone white fangs, giving away her species. If the eyes aren't enough of a hint.

“Lord Edgar which to speak with you,” she says in a voice thick with Stensian accent. “As soon as you're ready I'll take you to him.”

“I'm ready now,” Liliana snaps without pretense of the politeness she can sometimes muster up for the sake of getting her way. By this point she doesn't have the patience to even bother to pretend to care. “It's taken the old man long enough to get back to me.”

“He does apologize for the delay.”

“Yes, I'm sure he does.”

Liliana follows the woman down two flights of twisting stairs to the entry way and then another to the cellar that acts as an alchemical laboratory. The room is dark and she can smell the faint scent of sulfur and other questionable ingredients used for whatever spells the man conjures up. She barely notices when Edgar appears from a corner of the room.

“Liliana Vess,” Edgar greets politely, lighting up a few candles, burned low, dry wax clinging to their sides. “Beautiful as usual. I'm not surprised.”

Edgar Markov, Liliana notes, is not an outwardly interesting looking man. He's tall, thin with age, and white haired with an aristocratic face. The Markov bloodline favors such a facial structure. He's dressed in elegant, but still relatively simple, clothes in dark tones that blend in with the surrounding shadows. But, despite his mundane appearance, there's something dangerous just under the surface. Not power that he personally welds, but what he connections he has, connections that Liliana hopes to make use of. He's not someone she'll ever underestimate.

“Flattery will only get you so far, Markov,” Liliana replies flatly, examining a series of small bird bones sitting on a table. “I did your task for you.”

“Yes, yes you did.” Edgar fiddles with things cluttered on an alter, picking up this or that as if he isn't sure what he wants to do. Nervous, Liliana would say if she didn't already know that it's all an act. “How did it go?”

“He's back on Innistrad at the very least.” Liliana made sure to watch her target from a safe distance, using one of her shadowy minions to give her word on the conclusion. She can't imagine Sorin Markov will react well if he catches word of what her intentions are. “Some Cathars stepped in as his welcoming party.”

“And where is he at the moment?”

“I don't know. He walked.” Powerful enough to do so even with his connection to mana cut off. “He probably only needed to move somewhere on-plane. I have eyes out there looking for him even as we speak.”

Edgar nods while annoyance creases his face. “Very well. Just remember what I told you; you are not to kill him.”

“I'm aware.” Liliana scowls. “How much longer do I have to wait?”

She trusts she doesn't need to clarify.

“Once everything is taken care of, and only then. These are the rules.”

“Fine,” Liliana bites out. “If that's all, I'm going to check up on things.”

Wretched man, she thinks stormily as she turns and leaves, eyes glowing violet.

* * *

The damned things still won't come off.

Sorin glares down at the silver bands still completely secured around his wrists. They've somehow managed to chafe through the leather and fabric to his skin just enough to further add to his foul mood. No matter what he tries the bands refuse to give. He had thought that white mana would help, but Valeria had not made any progress on them either.

He doesn't like feeling this vulnerable.

Even when he'd been human, Sorin had had magic at his fingertips to fall back on. His ability with a sword was as formidable then as it is now, but it had been his magic where his real talent had been. As a vampire he had only become more powerful, welding his black magic with dangerous and lethal accuracy, despite the mending's effect on Planeswalkers later. And after all this time, centuries upon centuries, his magic has been taken from him, for who knows how long.

“Are you alright?” he hears Valeria ask as his side. When he looks over at her, her face shows more concern than it has any real right to. “Sorin?”

“I'm fine,” he lies smoothly, far from the vicinity of 'fine'.

Valeria's brows crease, but she doesn't press the subject, thankfully. Instead, she awkwardly sits down, taping her fingers against her thigh in a restless motion. Sorin's hand shoots out and grabs her thin wrist, putting the distracting movement to an abrupt halt.

“Sorry, she squeaks. Her freckled face betrays her as it grows pink in the cheeks and her pulse dances erratically under his fingers.

Valeria's strange affections towards him are just as baffling as her apparent fearlessness. There's no mistaking her thoughts, the way she' easily flustered by his closeness and his touch and his state of dress, for anything other than infatuation. He chalks it up to her having met him first when she was at such an impressionable age for a female human. The idea of taking advantage of this briefly crosses his mind. It would be easy to influence her adult self to give herself to him, blood and body, willingly without him having to control her.

And then he shakes the idea from his head, releasing Valeria's wrist like it's burned him.

'No,' he thinks, 'for now I need her unscathed.'

But, he does need blood, just not hers. Unable to draw upon mana, planeswalking, and being wounded has brought the hunger to the surface which means that he'll have to go out and find a victim to feed upon. Inconvenient timing on its part.

Sorin stands as smoothly as his healing will allow him to.

“I'll return shortly,” he tells Valeria, grabbing his coat and belting his sword at his waist.

“Where are you going?” she asks, standing up as well. She follows him to the door, thick skirts swishing around her in the flurry of her walking.

“I need to feed,” Sorin replies pointedly, stopping with a hand on the door-handle.

“Oh,” Valeria swallows. “Should you go out there now?”

“Yes, unless you wish for me to feed on you instead.”

Valeria's expression turns unimpressed at the threat and she glowers up at him, not taking kindly to his tone. “Fine, I'll go with you, then.”

“No, I can't play nursemaid to a human while I'm busy.”

“I'll be fine. I've managed just fine these last few years without you. And,” Valeria continues, now on a roll and she jabs a finger towards his chest, “I can use magic to watch your back. Not that I really want you to kill anyone.

Sorin glares at her.

As much as it pains him to think so, she has a good point. With how volatile the inhabitants of the plane have become and his now established reputation, he's at a distinct disadvantage. He deflates, shifting his jaw.

“Suit yourself. Just know that if you do something stupid it will be your issue to deal with.”

 

* * *

The night envelopes them as they walk, Valeria staying near Sorin and drawing in as much mana as her body will allow her to in order to ready her spells. Sorin doesn't speak to her, and Valeria can feel his annoyance radiating off his person, along with something else she doesn't want to identify.

Valeria tries not to think about why they're out there and focuses instead on keeping an eye open for threats that can come out from any corner at any time.

They wander around for half an hour before, finally, a small group of Cathar appear out from the forest. They look up just as Sorin charges towards them, sword raised. Two are cut down before they even have a chance to react, and Valeria takes out the third with a restraining spell.

She feels guilty for it, of course. They don't deserve their fate, but it will end far worse if Sorin doesn't feed. That's simple fact. Only the three or who knows how many more if not this one person; what's the better option?

Valeria looks away as Sorin pulls the restrained survivor roughly to his feet and bites down onto his neck. Just because she accepts his need doesn't mean that she has to like it and witness it being done. She's still human and her fight or flight instincts are still intact.

She keeps her eyes averted until she feels a hand drop onto her shoulder. Fighting the initial urge to jump, Valeria turns to look. The feeding has done him some good, leaving him looking more alert and alive, more human, but more importantly, less hungry. That's a very good thing for her and her fellow humans.

“Come on,” Sorin says to her, removing his hand and walking back towards the direction that they had come from, “We should get back before someone discovers these bodies.”

“Right, okay.” She can't fight that logic, she agrees while she struggles to keep up with Sorin's brisk pace. If they're here when the bodies are found, the situation would go sideways very quickly and that's something that neither one of them need. Sorin's healing quickly and while his strength is returning as well, there's only so much combat he'd be able to take, whether he admits to it or not. “What are you intending on doing next?”

“Same as I told you before.” Sorin's pace slows as he seems to remember that Valeria's legs are shorter than his. “As soon as I'm able, I'm going to hunt down the person who started all of this.”

No, Valeria hasn't forgotten, and while she can't blame him for his anger, killing someone for spreading rumors feels a bit...extreme. She doesn't envy the person on Sorin's bad side. Magic or not, he's not someone you want pissed off at you. Even Valeria with all her impulsive and stubborn nature knows better than to push him too far. She isn't an idiot, contrary to popular belief.

“Do you have an idea on who it is?” she asks out of curiosity. She's go a theory about whom it might be. They'd have to know Sorin very well and know his history. Very few humans had any idea before the stories began, which has her thinking that it has to be a vampire. His kind would be the most likely to know.

Sorin glances over his shoulder and down at her, expression unreadable. “I might.”

“Anyone I know?” It was worth asking for the sake of asking.

“No.” Sorin's back tenses and he's looking forward again.

“I was just wondering.” Valeria shrugs. Don't push him, she reminds herself. “I thought I might be able to help more if I knew.”

Sorin doesn't respond her question, his walking growing quicker again to the point that Valeria has to trot to try and keep up with him. It's so quiet on their way back that she can hear the wind blowing through the bare trees and howling around the houses, tugging at their hair and clothes.

“My grandfather,” Sorin says at last when they've reached her house, breaking the silence. Valeria didn't expect him to actually answer. He stands outside her door with his hand hovering over the knob. She can't see his face when he speaks, not that she would have been able to see anything on it either way. She waits patiently for him to continue, if he's going to. “When I created Avacyn he saw it as a slight against him and exiled me from my ancestral home. He's just petty enough that he'd do this as a repayment for that slight.”

“Oh.” Valeria has heard of Edgar Markov. His name's well known in Stensia, both before and after the rumors. The humans of the region are either frightened by him or see him as a benevolent ruler to the degree that they would give up their humanity just for the sake of joining the Markov family. “Why would he do it this way? Why not talk to you about it directly than go about it in this roundabout way?”

Sorin's laugh is far from pleasant and an icy prickling feeling dances its way down Valeria's spine in reaction to it.

“To undermine me. He likely wants to turn the humans I've helped with my creation against me, if not outright kill me for it.” Sorin pushes open the door and visibly winces as he walks through he barriers. If he'd been any other vampire it would have been more painful. “I'm not sure why I'm telling you all of this.”

Valeria isn't sure, either, but he's opening up to her which means that he trusts her enough to do so. That has to count for something, whatever that something is.

“Why does he hate you?”

Sorin removes his coat and dropped into the chair he'd occupied when she'd sewn up his side. She's pushing that luck again.

“Nevermind, you don't have to tell me,” Valeria attempts to backpedal. “It's none of my business. You've already told me a lot more than you had to.”

“Maybe I'll tell you later,” Sorin replies, absently running his fingers down the arm of the chair. “If I feel like it.”

“That's fair. I don't want to bother you.” She shrugs, secretly hoping that he will.

“You aren't bothering me. If you were, you would know.”

Okay, that might have been a compliment. Maybe. She isn't quite sure. It's hard to tell with him.

“I'm glad to know this?”

Sorin doesn't continue with the conversation, feeling like he's said enough already, and Valeria starts a fire and makes herself something to eat. She considers offering him something as well, but remembers that it would have been a pointless one, even if she's just being polite. In the end, she settles for eating a meager meal of stew and bread from the night before in relative silence, sitting in front of the crackling fire.

At some point or another, Sorin pulls the chair closer to her and the fire, his eyes focusing on the dancing flames. He still doesn't say anything, but the quiet isn't awkward, and Valeria eats beside him without a word until she's finished.

“I'm going to bed. If you need anything feel free to let me know,” she alerts him as she heads towards the stairs leading to the bedrooms.

He doesn't react to her words and she wonders if he's even heard anything she's just said. He has a lot on his mind, she concludes, and that's to be expected. He's admitted that his own grandfather, his flesh and blood kin, is trying to kill him, or so it seems like. There's a lot more that she doesn't know. Just how deep does this resentment go? She thinks back to her relationship with her own family. It feels like nothing in comparison to Sorin's estrangement.

“I will.” He's looking at her intently, studying her face like she's a puzzle to be solved. Valeria isn't sure why when out of the two of them, he, so far, has proven to be the bigger mystery. “Thank-you...for your help earlier. I'll admit I'm not very good at expressing my gratitude. It's trait I've never been able to improve.”

Valeria gives him a smile. “I understand. There's no need to really thank me. I'm just repaying what you did for me when I was thirteen. It's the right thing to do.”

“And your interest in me has nothing to do with it.”

Oh, he's going to bring that up. Fantastic. She had hoped that he'd forgotten that little incident by now, or at the very least decided that it wasn't worth his time. Either one would have worked as long has he didn't bring it up again. So much for that.

Valeria glowers while her face immediately flushes. “No, it doesn't. I did it because I should.”

Sorin's eyebrow raises quizzically. “Despite the fact that you would be saving a vampire, the very creature that you should let die. What would your fellow humans think about that?”

Valeria crosses her arms. “I couldn't care less what they think. This is my life to do as I will. I make my own choices. They can just bugger off.”

“Brave talk,” Sorin says with a small smirk. “Now, go get your sleep, little girl.”

Valeria rolls her eyes and marches up the stairs with a huff.

“Little girl...” she mutters under her breath. “I'm not a child.”

She isn't, and it bothers her more than she wants to admit that he thinks of her as one. She shouldn't let it get to her. He means nothing offensive with it, as far as she knows, but still. She's a woman, not a child that he can just mock and send to bed.

That man.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's a complicated, contradictory man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, I don't really have a good reason for why it took me this long to get a new chapter out. 
> 
> I started a new story that I was intending on writing between chapters of Absist Omen, and, well, before you know it I'd written four chapters before I'd even gotten around to work on this one. 
> 
> Now, the National Novel Writing Month is coming up in - _looks at date_ \- two days, which means that I won't have the time to do any new chapters of this or The Language of Flowers until December at the earliest. That's why I wanted to make sure I got this out before then. I think you guys deserve an update. 
> 
> Besides this chapter, I'm also finishing up a Sorin/Liliana one-shot I'd started, if anyone is interested in reading it. It's going to be AO3 exclusive since some of the content is explicit. That should be coming out before Saturday night/Sunday morning (aka before NaNoWriMo officially kicks off). 
> 
> Until then, hope you lot enjoy this and I apologize for any grammatical goofs. I tried to get this out as quickly as possible.

The bath water's warm and relaxing, easing the tension from Sorin's body. It's much needed, despite the slight twinging the soaps caused to his side. Cleanliness is a necessity and he can deal with some discomfort for the sake of it. Feeling clean gives him some manner of control over his situation. He's stuck on Innistrad, but at least he can be _clean._

Sorin sinks down further into the bath, tipping his head back over the edge with a low sigh. Even while trying to relax, he can't keep his mind from wandering.

He needs to go to the manor and speak with Edgar. 'Speak' is a subjective term in this instance, but it will do well to see what the man has to say in defense of himself before Sorin chokes the unlife from his body. Innistrad's falling apart at the seams because of him, threatening to undo all of Sorin's work in maintaining a balance on the plane.

Sorin's eyes open and he growls with annoyance. So much for relaxing.

Swearing, he climbs out of the bath and grabs a towel with a furious motion, drying off with just as much fury. He redresses in record time, forgoing his vest and coat, and goes downstairs where he finds Valeria sitting beside a brightly burning fire. In her hands is a book, and he can smell the remains of her dinner she's just eaten. She jumps when she realizes that he's in the room with her.

“Feel better?” she asks, knowing better and noting the water dripping off the ends of his hair.

“Not particularly,” Sorin mutters. He sits down near Valeria, picking up the faint scent of roses and old books coming off of her like a perfume.

“Ah,” she replies. She closes her book, delicate fingers running down the spine with familiar intimacy. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

In the days since he's been staying with her, Sorin hasn't taken the time to really take in Valeria's appearance, and he does it now while the opportunity presents itself as a distraction from his own rage.

She hasn't grown in height; that much has been blatantly hard to miss given that he has to look down at her when speaking to her. Her face is still pale and freckled, but it's become a little sharper with adulthood, and her lips have grown a little fuller, as has the rest of her figure. Not even time has managed to tame the wild mess of black curls and waves that fall down to her waist, bound together at the ends with a bit of white ribbon. It can only do so much to control the mass.

“What? Is there food on my face?” Valeria reaches for some nonexistent crumb on her cheek.

“You aged.”

Valeria blinks then laughs. “Yes, it's what most people do.”

“I forget sometimes.” He's never liked to pay attention to such things. It's never that important, considering he so rarely gets close enough to people to care whether or not they age. Valeria has grown up and became a woman.

“I'm not surprised,” Valeria says, fidgeting with a stray curl. “You won't ever age, will you? Not physically.”

“No, I don't think that I will.” He's the second oldest of his kind and has come across no other vampire as old as he is, although there are some that are quite old, such as one infamous Baron on Ulgrotha. “In truth, I'm not sure how long my kind will live for.”

“How old are you?”

Sorin frowns, and he mulls over her question, realizing that he doesn't have a real answer. “I don't know the precise number. Dates and time aren't important to me.”

“I suppose that makes sense. I guess after awhile, little things like birthdays aren't really that special when you're thousands of years old.” Valeria grins and eyes him with consideration. “Okay, you don't know how old you are in numbers, but how old were you when you became a vampire?”

He hasn't considered that. “Twenty-something. I believe.”

“You don't remember that, either.”

How in the world has this become a game of questions and answers?

“If you want to know so much about me, it's only fair that I be allowed to ask the same thing for you,” Sorin points out, crossing one leg over the other. “For example, why is it that you are alone?”

Valeria's grin fades and she stares wistfully into the fire. “My parents died when I was eighteen. I inherited this house and some coin. Nothing more. The church has helped me some, taking pity on an unmarried maid, and the rest I've managed with healing those who need it. As for why I'm alone now, since I assume that's what you want to know; no one would want to marry me.”

“Do you not want to marry?” Don't most human women want that domestic life? On Innistrad your life is likely to be a short one and marrying and child-rearing is important if one wanted to continue one's bloodline. It appears that Valeria doesn't share that mindset. How curious.

Valeria shrugs with indifference. “I don't know. I don't think so. I'm not exactly what most men would see as wifely material. My reputation hasn't been the best since...”

“Since I helped you,” Sorin finishes her thought for her.

“You made an impression on me, and people knew that. No mother or father was going to betroth her son to a girl who appeared to have been taken a liking to by a vampire. Too risky,” Valeria continues, dryly.

“They assumed that I was going to come back and 'anoint' you.” On top of her obvious infatuation.

“That was a factor, yes.”

“Which is why you gave up in the search for a husband.” He watches her face carefully for a reaction and gets one. One of her teeth pulls at her lip and her eyes briefly flicker to his.

“In a manner. Besides, I don't think I could settle down. I'm not one for children. That, and I can't stand ignorance. I'm not about to throw myself to any vampire. I just don't believe that every vampire is inherently evil.”

“You don't think that I am.”

Valeria looks at him from the corner of her eye and sighs. “I don't know what to think of you, Sorin Markov. I should be scared of you, more scared than of any other vampire, but I'm not.”

Their conversation dies off after this and it leaves them sitting in silence. Valeria eventually goes back to her book and Sorin watches her eyes scan each word before turning a page, noting the little crinkle of concentration between her brows.

She's right; she should be afraid of him. Her fearless nature is going to get her killed one of these days. Maybe not by him, but someone else is bound to take advantage of her gentle nature. Her sort don't last long on Innistrad, and he may have been able to protect her before, but there's was no way to guarantee that he would be able to protect her from that threat again. She's helpful and a curiosity, but beyond that he owes her nothing. Or so he tells himself while some sliver of his humanity chides him. He pushes it back down into the darkness of his own mind.

* * *

The nightmares are a surprise, Valeria will later note. She never expected someone like Sorin to have them, but there are a lot of things that she didn't expect that have been happening lately.

She finds him laying on the lounge in her front room when she comes downstairs the next morning, looking completely out of place and too large for the piece of furniture. He's on his side, hair fallen away from most of his face, leaving it open to inspection, which Valeria decides she wants to do. She doesn't know when she will get another opportunity like this one. Grinning, she creeps towards him, hoping that her floorboard won't creak with her weight as she does so. She's going to commit this to memory.

She's only a foot away from him when Sorin murmurs something in his sleep and his brow furrows. Even as close as she is, Valeria can't make out what he's saying. He's speaking in an old language, one that died out a long time ago. It isn't a pretty sound and makes a familiar sliver of ice slide down her spine. She bites back a startled sound when Sorin's eyes snaps open. However, after a moment, she realizes that despite this they're unfocused and hazy, looking far past where she stands. His words become silent mouthing, speaking to someone who isn't there.

“Sorin...?”

Valeria doesn't get any closer and doesn't touch him. If she did, she imagines it wouldn't end well for her. She knows better than to wake a sleeping vampire. Sorin doesn't react to her voice, still lost in whatever dream he's suffering from. His arm not held down by his own weight reaches out for something and pulls it back, saying a name, speaking it louder each time.

“Elizabeth...”

Who's Elizabeth, Valeria wonders. Is she a family member or some long dead past love? Is he even capable of love? 

Sorin twists violently onto his back and the tang of blood fills the air. He's torn open his stitches, which means that she'll have to redo them when he wakes, but that's the least of her concerns at the moment.

“Sorin, you need to wake up,” Valeria calls out to him, loud enough that she hopes he'll be able to hear it through this nightmare he's having. When he doesn't react, again, she slips off one of her house shoes and tosses at his legs. “Sorin!”

It works nearly instantly, and Valeria's glad that she decided not to get any closer when a knife she didn't know he had on him embeds itself into the wall just left of her head. He pulls himself upright, blinking back sleep and confusion, and he looks at her with now refocused eyes.

“Valeria,” he rasps as realization forms in his mind. “What's happened?”

“You were having a nasty nightmare,” she informs him, willing her thumping heart to slow. That knife had gotten far too close. “You tore open your wound.”

Sorin looks down at the wound in question and sees blood slowly seeping into his shirt, turning it an even darker shade of black. “Damn,” he mutters.

“Are you alright?” Valeria asks, picking up her slipper that's fallen back onto to the floor.

“I'm not sure.” Sorin's general appearance is ruffled, and when he runs a hand through his hair it only serves to muss up the white strands even more. It's odd to see him so disheveled. Even when he'd come to her door angry and bleeding he'd at least been somewhat composed despite it. Now, though, he looks worn, centuries of his long life catching up with him at last.

“You were talking in your sleep,” Valeria says. She wishes she could offer him tea. Tea has always helped her after she had nightmares. She'd had them frequently after her near death experience with the vampires, and her mother had always made her a hot pot of it to comfort her. “Don't worry. I couldn't understand a damn word.”

Sorin's thin lips form a tight line as he untucks what of his shirt that's still in place and inspects his side. Blood oozes sluggishly from the torn skin. Valeria's thankful that she's used to the sight of blood; she'd seen her fair share of it over the last few days.

“What do you mean?” he asks, letting his shirt fall back down around his hips. Suspicion glimmersin his dark eyes. “What was it?”

“I don't know. It was some an old tongue. An old version of Innistradi.” Well, she thought it might have been Innistradi. It's similar, but darker. “You also said a name.”

“Ah.” She expects more of a reaction from him, but he only lays back down, draping an arm over his eyes in exhaustion.

“You don't seem surprised.”

“I'm not. I just haven't thought of her in ages,” Sorin replies.

Valeria raises an eyebrow that he can't possibly see. “Who was...?”

She watches his throat bob as he swallows and his arm moves so that he can look at her. Emotion that Valeria hasn't seen before on his face, nor expected him able to express, swirls in the depth of his gaze.

“Elizabeth was a friend of mine.” The way he says the word makes Valeria think that the woman is or rather was far more than just that. “She died centuries ago. When I was still human.”

She wants more information, but she isn't going to get it. She isn't about to dig into old memories when he's obviously uncomfortable talking about it. Sorin's speech is stilted and awkward on top of being vague. Obvious signs of someone not wanting to talk about the subject matter at hand.

“I'm sorry,” Valeria says, and it feels like an understatement. There isn't much she can do to comfort him.

“Yes, so am I.”

He loves her, Valeria thinks, this Elizabeth. She's seen that look and heard that tone enough to know the emotion. She'd seen it on her parents' faces all the time when they'd been alive. It's the look of a man who would kill for the person he loves. And knowing Sorin, he probably would.

“I don't know why I'm dreaming about her,” Sorin continues. He stares up at the ceiling, lost in his memories. “I thought I'd moved on.”

Since he seems like he's willing to continue, despite his discomfort, Valeria risks asking the question in her head. “Did you love her?”

Sorin chuckles bitterly. “I suppose I did. I never told her. Not once, but I know she felt the same. She never tried to hide her affections from me. I just pretended that I didn't see them. We grew up together, and she spent far more time at the manor than she ever did with her own family. Edgar would have been more than happy for us to have wedded if the famine hadn't changed everything.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

“I suppose it's because it makes a splendid cautionary tale, one you should heed.” She doesn't like the way this is going. “Falling in love with me is a dangerous affair. Your affections are nothing but an infection, and you should cut it out quickly before it spreads.”

She was right; she doesn't like the way it went. Frankly, she feels insulted. He's treating her like a child again.

Valeria pulls herself up into her unimpressive height and glares hard at him.

“Listen you, I don't care who you are. I'm free to do as I please with my 'affections', infatuation or otherwise. Who said I was going to fall in love with you, anyway, oh great lord of vampires?” She's positively steaming, one hand on her hip the other pointing at him. “We've only known each other for two and a half bloody days. Yes, my thirteen year old self was smitten. You did save me from a rather unpleasant end. But that in no way dictates what I do or feel now.”

“Because I know how this will end, and you'll regret it. If you live to see it.” Sorin sits up quickly, swinging his legs off the lounge. “I'm only warning you for your own good.”

“You can take that warning and shove it up your royal arse,” Valeria mutters behind clenched teeth. She stomps over to her supplies. “Now come sit over here so I can resew that wound. I don't want you to die in my living room.”

A minute later Valeria's sitting beside Sorin, slowly redoing his stitches. It would have been a lot faster if she'd just been able to use mana to mend it, but ultimately it isn't worth the risk. She still doesn't know whether or not white magic would harm him. A mystery for another day perhaps. Meanwhile, her mood hasn't improved after Sorin's attempt to dissuade her from growing closer to him and maybe she's not as gentle as she could be when she's sewing up the ugly torn bit of skin.

How dare he think that he can just decide what she should or shouldn't do with her emotions. Just because he's emotionally walled off doesn't mean that everyone else has to be as well. Besides, he's proven that even he's capable of loving another person. So why is he trying to control hers? He'd said that it was a 'cautionary tale', reasons why falling in love with him would end badly, but then he hadn't elaborated on what exactly had happened to Elizabeth that had led to her death. Valeria has a feeling that he'd had a part in it, and she wonders absently, her indignation wearing off a bit, if that's the reason why Sorin is so cold.

The man in question has fallen into a sort of quiet reverie, staring absently into the fire as he's taken to doing, and the common sense part of Valeria has to ask herself, as she finishes her task, if she shouldn't put some distance between them. Not because he insists on it, but because he's shown some of his true colors to her that night. At first glance his warning seems to be in her best interests, but thinking about it it has to be out selfishness. He doesn't want to feel guilt if should something happen to her while he's around.

She doesn't want that to be the case; she's given him benefit of the doubt since she first met him as to what his nature might be. She's hoped that he's different than the rest of his kind, that he actually cares about humans and herself, but quite possibly she's been mistaken.

Still, she thinks about the look on his face when he'd spoken about Elizabeth, that wistful nostalgia of someone he's lost and loved. Most vampires show little to no regard for life and what they might have been as a human and the humans that they've had in their life before the change. Sorin has even more reason than most to toss away any and all humanity, being so ancient. Valeria doesn't want to think that he was like them, just better at pretending with niceties.

“There, done,” Valeria announces. She wraps a layer of bandages around his torso to cover the fresh stitches. “You should be fine so long as you don't rip them open again. As it is, it's going to scar.”

Sorin shrugs a shoulder. “Thank-you.”

“Hmm.”

Golden irises flicker over to look at her face. “You're upset.”

“Obviously,” she deadpans.

Sorin clears his throat. “That wasn't my intention, believe it or not. I was only saying what needs to be said.”

Valeria sends him a flat look. “You really do need to improve on your conversational skills, then. I'm not some little child that needs to be told what to do and how to do them. I've been on my own longer than you've been around with me.”

“Of course.” Sorin stands up and grabs his shirt, pulling it over his head. It needs to be washed now that blood's staining it again. Valeria had already fixed it once. “I prefer to get to the point.”

“Yeah, well. I don't appreciate it.” She gathers up her stuff and begins to wipe down her needle. “I don't need you talking down at me.”

Sorin doesn't respond. He walks over to the window and gazes out through the glass. “I need to leave here tomorrow; I can't linger any longer.”

“What about your injury?” Valeria's mind takes a moment to catch up with the change in topic. “You shouldn't leave until it's healed.”

“I can't wait that long. I've waited long enough.”

Valeria huffs. “Okay, fine. Do what you want, Markov. I can't stop you even if I tried.”

Even while she knows that he needs to go about whatever business regarding his grandfather, Valeria has a very bad feeling that everything is about to come crashing down around him in a bad way. If only she could convince him not to do this.


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _As things normally go, he'll wish that he'd taken her offer._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, hey guys. 
> 
> Since I last updated: I got hugely into Star Wars, Oath of the Gatewatch was released, and we got both an announcement for Shadows Over Innistrad and Eldrich Moon. 
> 
> Needless to say that those last two things will push this story even more into the realm of Canon Divergence once they're released. I'm not mad. I just didn't expect that we'd be going back to my favorite plane so soon. I expect that whatever new info we get from the block may or may not play some influence on the rest of this story.
> 
> At any rate, there's actual plot happening in this chapter! I know, I can't believe it either. I hope that it won't be another three months before I update again.

The sun is hazy as it comes shining through the windows, but its still ample enough to tug Sorin out of his slumber. It takes a moment for the previous night's events to come back to him, and when they do he groans, sits up, and rubs at his stiff neck; an ailment gained from sleeping on something other than a bed. His eyes flick to look at the ceiling, knowing that a certain young woman is likely still sleeping in the room right above him. It seems his talent for upsetting people is still well and fully intact.

Sorin stands up and stretches his long limbs. He's only finished cracking his neck when she comes half-stumbling down the stairs in a stiff gait. Her dark hair is loose and she's wearing a simple white cotton dress that floats in a wispy manner around her legs. She barely looks at him as she walks past with bare feet towards the kitchen. When she returns a moment later it's with a small block of cheese and bread arranged on a plate.

“Good morning,” she grumbles as she begins to cut up her breakfast. She sounds tired, like she's barely slept.

“Good morning,” Sorin returns, watching her work. “Sleep pleasantly?”

Valeria turns a bleary eye towards him. “I don't appreciate mockery this early in the morning. I haven't even had tea yet.”

“My apologies. I'll save the mockery for when you're more awake, then.” Sorin watches her haphazardly cut at her cheese before he comes to her side and lightly plucks it and the knife from Valeria's fingers. At her vocal complaint, he adds, “You're going to cut yourself and then we'll both be in trouble.”

“I'm sure you have plenty of self-restraint,” Valeria mutters, tearing her bread into pieces instead since her knife has been pilfered. “ Besides, I'm not likely to do much harm with a simple butter knife.”

“You'd be surprised.” He can just vaguely recall a time when he'd once accidentally sliced open a finger with one as a child. He'd had to deal with both his governess and a small army of fretting maids afterwards. Valeria doesn't have either, but that doesn't matter, really. He's starting to get a bit hungry again and being around her blood won't be remotely helpful towards his state of mind.

While he cuts up the cheese, Valeria leaves the room again long enough to gather things for tea. She puts a kettle over the coals in the fire place. With a little bit of poking, she has the flames going again and the kettle rattles and begins to steam merrily over them. When Valeria stands up, Sorin notices that a bit of black soot has appeared on the tip of her little upturned nose.

“What's so funny?” Valeria asks at his chuckling, sooty nose scrunching up.

Sorin sets down the cheese, having cut enough pieces off, and fills the space between he and Valeria. He lifts a hand and wipes off the soot with a finger. “You had something on your nose.”

There's a bright splash of pink on her cheeks and Sorin can hear her heart beating quickly in her chest. “Oh. Thank-you,” she says.

He's quick to put space back between them and settles into the chair beside hers. He observes her as she awkwardly sits down as well and begins to munch on her cheese and bread. He knows that he should leave now, before he gets settled back in The confrontation with Edgar isn't be an easy one. The sooner he gets it over with the better. He shouldn't be enjoying a relaxing morning with this human girl, perfectly happy to sit and watch her eat in her human way. Her presence is peaceful and he's finding himself reluctant to break it. Still, she's already done enough for him. She's paid him back. He should leave.

“Say, can you eat?”

Sorin blinks at the question. “Pardon?”

“Can you eat cheese? Bread? Or are you limited only to blood?” Valeria's holding a piece of sliced cheese out to him, a curious look on her face.

“We can, but it does nothing for us.” He eyes the cheese and takes it from her. He hasn't even tried to have any human food in thousands of years. Would he be ridiculous to try it again now? Yes. He does it anyway and takes the smallest possible bite out of it. The taste is immediately unpleasant, too strong to his sense of taste. He swallows it with a grimace. “The only way we can feel any satisfaction is through the consumption of blood. Our bodies cannot process anything but.”

“Oh,” Valeria sighs, beginning to lower her hand. “I was just wondering. Eating by myself gets lonely, and your staring is beginning to become unnerving.”

Sorin gives another slow blink and looks away, diverting his attention to the kettle that's beginning to bubble with a bit more enthusiasm now. “I imagine. Do you always eat alone?”

“Usually. Sometimes someone from the church will pay me a visit, but they never stay too long.” She doesn't appear to be particularly bothered by this. She's someone used to being on her own and relying on her own company, much like himself. “It is good to have someone here to talk to.”

“At least I'm good for something,” Sorin says with a smirk.

Valeria laughs and shakes her head. “You're good for plenty of things, I'm certain.”

The weight of the impending confrontation hangs heavy over his head as they talk and sip tea. It doesn't take long until Valeria's powers of observation kick in as she sets her now empty tea cup down on the little table between their chairs.

“You're leaving soon, aren't you?” she asks with audible disappointment.

“Unfortunately, it must be done.” He'd much rather stay here with her. At least her presence doesn't make him want to break furniture. Or necks. He glances at the windows. The sun is still covered by a haze of clouds, which is ideal. The bulk of his kin should be hidden indoors until the sun sets so it's less likely he'll run into them on his way to the manor.

“I could go with you,” Valeria says, catching onto his edginess. “Two heads are better than one.”

“No,” he says sharply, watching her flinch. He swears quietly and drags a hand through his hair in frustration. “No, it's better if I go alone.”

Valeria is frowning at him in a way that is slightly cowing. “I don't know how you've lived this long when you insist on doing things alone.”

“Not always,” he mutters. He thinks of his various companions over his many years, those he's employed the assistance of in the journeys he's taken, namely Zendikar. “Don't think that I don't appreciate what you've done to help me, but this is something I need to do on my own.”

Valeria is still frowning and she crosses her arms. “Fine. Stubborn man.”

He can't help but to smile at that. “Stubborn woman.”

As things normally go, he'll wish that he'd taken her offer.

* * *

Valeria isn't pleased to be by herself again, but mostly she isn't pleased about Sorin leaving on his own.

“Oh, come off it,” she mutters to herself as she works in her garden for most of the afternoon, aggressively pulling at the weeds that have begun to take over the herbs that grow behind her house. She could probably use her rudimentary understanding of drawing mana from the green earth to assist her as she has before, but pulling them out herself is a better outlet for her frustration. Really, she's frustrated more at herself than anything.

She spends two days with someone and she's suddenly desperate for companionship. She never realized how much she misses having someone to regularly talk to until the person is gone. Oh, she expects that Sorin will return at his leisure after he's taken out his anger on his own blood kin, but it doesn't exactly help Valeria right now. The solitude is maddening.

With an annoyed growl, Valeria sits up and brushes the back of her hand across her brow. Honestly, she can't figure out how her life has suddenly gotten so...complicated. And ridiculous. She knows the source of it, of course. It's Sorin. Her life hasn't been quite the same since he first appeared in it. Between his reappearance and his first, she's been labeled odd and made to be an outcast among those of her village. She should hate him for it. Although, to be fair, she wasn't exactly the ideal picture of a girl even before him so she can't place one hundred percent of the blame on him.

She's over-thinking. See, this is what happens when she's alone. It's not any good for her wandering mind.

Giving up on her garden, Valeria stands up and dusts off her dress -a old, ratty thing she saves specifically for gardening-, and she's just about ready to go back inside when there is an unusual feeling behind her, like a whirlpool sucking in the air. She turns around in time to witness a man in blue appear out of nowhere, the hood of his cloak obscuring most of his face.

Valeria blinks and stares at him, trying to form some sort of explanation for it. He stares back, or at least his face is aimed towards her as far as she can tell.

“Hello?” he says with some confusion.

“Hello?” Valeria parrots back. She's drawing in mana just in case she needs to cast a protection spell.

“Sorry, are you Valeria?” he asks.

He's not particularly tall, but still taller than her, and when his hands come up and push back his hood, she's met with a youthful face. Blue eyes that appear to be glowing slightly stare at her. There's strange markings on his chin and the right side of his face that start just below his eye and disappear beneath the high collar of his robe, and a head of brown hair that sticks up at all angles.

For some reason she thinks that she can trust him. “I am. And you are?”

“I'm Jace Beleren. I was told that Sorin Markov was here.” The man -Jace- looks around with a small frown on his face. “I have a feeling I just missed him.”

“Unfortunately you have.”

Jace sighs. “Wonderful.”

“You...can come in if you want. As far as I know, he'll be back.” She feels a little sorry for him. “There's really no reason for us to be standing out here.”

“Good idea. After you.”

Valeria leads him inside and starts another pot of water for tea.

“So you're a Planeswalker. Which explains why you'd know Sorin,” she says casually as she hands Jace a cup, “but how did you find this place?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jace takes the cup and sips it. “I'd heard about you before through Sorin, and when I came here I just did some asking around.”

“Oh, I see.” Sorin had spoken about her? “Well, I'm sorry that you came all the way here and he's gone.”

Jace snorts and shakes his head. “That's been known to happen from time to time. He's great at making himself scarce.”

Valeria smiled. “So I'm noticing. I hope that he returns quickly then so you don't have to waste your time.”

“You're certainly taking all of this in stride,” Jace points out. “Most people wouldn't be so quick to make a friendship with a vampire and would be a bit more freaked out to know about Planeswalkers.”

She shrugs. He makes a good point. Most people wouldn't be all that understanding. “I'm strange. Ask anyone. That and I'm not too quick to make snap judgments. I assume that since you know about me you also know that Sorin saved me from a rather untimely demise. It makes it a bit easier to deal with a vampire when you can figure he isn't going to immediately go for your throat.”

“I can imagine.”

Valeria likes Jace; he's good company and has an easy sense of humor that makes her relax.

He stays with her until the sun is setting before he says he wants to take a look around. She tells him where the spare room is and goes to her own. There's no sense in waiting to see if Sorin will be back that night. It's highly unlikely. She'd be better off sleeping it off and waiting in the morning.

She's nearly asleep when there's a series of skittering sounds near her window, and her first instinct is to immediately grab her knife in the dark. Odd noises aren't unusual, but there's no way Sorin's back already and Jace is out. Whatever it is out there isn't something friendly and she's not stupid enough to take any chances. The whole house is protected. Nothing with any ill intent should be able to enter.

Which is why when something does, she's surprised.

Not surprised enough, however, not to swing her blade at the creature that's entered through the window, letting moonlight spin in. There's an angry hiss from the vampire -tall and male, with a head of black hair- when it's struck and Valeria winces as she's back handed and sent stumbling backwards. She raises her knife again and begins to draw in mana for a spell, praying to Avacyn for help. She's just about to cast it when an arm wraps around her neck and a hand is on her mouth. She twists the knife still in her hand so that the blade is pointed towards her and pulls it in, catching the one holding her in its side.

Valeria goes for the door when she's released, the vampire yelping in pain as silver strikes it's skin, and just as she's gotten the door open, her head is slammed into the door frame. The room spins for a moment and then goes black.

* * *

Valeria is a sweet girl, Jace concludes after getting to speak with her, almost too nice, and he wonders how in the world Sorin hasn't managed to scare the poor thing off yet. He knows from experience that the vampire lord can be intense and harsh at times, and that tends to rub people -rightfully so- the wrong way. He's beginning to understand what drove Sorin to save her in the first place. What was that saying? Silk covering steel? At any rate, she's stronger than she gives herself credit for. If he can see that in only a short amount of time, then certainly Sorin would.

Still, Jace does have a sense of foreboding encroaching on his mind, which is what brought him to Innistrad in the first place. He just wishes that he could have caught Sorin before he ran off on whatever revenge-fueled crusade that he's currently on. Valeria had been kind enough to fill him in on the general going-ons and he just knows that nothing good is going to come out of this.

Things _have_ been a bit too quiet lately. He should have known the moment he learned of Innistrad's current state that it wasn't meant to last.

The night is just beginning to fall when Jace opts to leave Valeria's home. The moment he walks outside he can hear the sounds of metal against metal and all the hoots and growls of whatever lurks in the darkness of this plane. It's not something he thinks he's going to ever get used to. This sort of place doesn't really suit his tastes, and the swamps, forests and mountains don't do a whole lot for his magic. He does, however, know of one person whom it does.

He senses her before he sees her and he turns on a booted foot to stare Liliana down face to face.

“I guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you,” Jace sighs as Liliana smiles tightly.

“Hello to you, too, Jace.” She's wearing a long gown with corset and a slit up to her hip, colored in her characteristic shade of purple. “It's been a while.”

“Yes, it has been.” She hasn't aged a single day, he notes, not that he expected her to.

“What brings you to lovely Innistrad?” Liliana asks as she saunters towards him. “This isn't exactly your place.”

“Sorin Markov,” Jace replies, trying not to let emotion show on his face. It doesn't matter what's happened since their last fateful meeting; he still cares and he's not very good at hiding it.

“Ah, him.” Liliana makes a face. “I assume you're looking for him because of this.” She gestures out towards the fighting in the distance.

“I'm just here to assist. Hopefully.” If Sorin will let him, that is. “Why are you here? I figured you'd be putting as much distance as possible between here and...wherever.”

Something crosses over Liliana's beautiful face. “Trying to hunt down a demon, mostly.”

“Your last one,” Jace concludes. He frowns a little. “Without the Chain Veil.”

“Indeed. You can imagine that it's not an easy task. It'd be easier if I could find the creature.” Liliana scowls in annoyance, cants a hip, and crosses her arms.

“And you won't let me help you. You know, I said I would. All you have to do is ask.” Liliana isn't very good at asking for anything, Jace thinks wryly. She never has been. “It's really not all that difficult.”

“It's more difficult than you think it might be.” Liliana kisses him on the cheek, and when he pulls away she's smiling again. “Unfortunately, I can't stick around long. Things to do. I just thought I'd drop in.”

“What are you up to, Liliana?”

“Things,” she says cryptically before she vanishes from sight.

What is he supposed to do about her?

Shaking his head Jace moves back towards the house, and as he opens the front door he quickly realizes that something feels off. He's not entirely certain on what it is until he finds himself going upstairs to Valeria's room. The door's half-torn off it's hinges and the room shows signs of a fight. With closer inspection he finds blood on the floor. It's not human, thankfully, but it's still enough to cause alarm.

Valeria's gone.

Sorin's going to skin him alive.

 

 

 


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some grudges are as old as he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's only been a week and there's a new update. I think that's a record for this fic. It didn't take another three months.

When Sorin makes the trip to his ancestral home, he's glad that he decided to leave when he did. It appears that the closer he gets to the manor, the more groups of fighting humans he comes across. They've spilled over from all regions, he notes, as he sees the banners for Gavony and Nephalia amongst those for Stensia and Kessig. Apparently even the threat of demons and vampires on the mountain passes haven't dissuaded them from their war. The tang of blood is strong in the cool air as the night falls, and Sorin aches to bury his fangs into a warm neck. It's only been a small handful of days since he fed, but the hunger is howling at the door of his mind again. He's going to need blood for this venture anyhow.

He finds himself staring at the back of an armored individual near to where he's hiding and contemplates the best course of action for luring them to him. Luckily, he doesn't have to think much on it as something catches their attention and they move towards him. It simply takes one quick dash on Sorin's part to drag them back to his hiding place, hand over their mouth to muffle a scream, and sink his fangs into their jugular with a low, satisfied groan. Warm liquid fills his mouth and there's a squelching sound as he sucks out every last drop that he can procure from their veins. He shudders after he's dropped the now drained body as the euphoria of an after-feed sets in.

Sorin leaves the body where it lies and uses his vampiric prowess to move through the trees without being spotted. Those fighting are far too engaged to notice him as he creeps behind their backs. He's glad. He doesn't need to deal with a whole mob at the moment on top of everything else. He doesn't remotely have the patience for it.

His booted feet are silent and he moves like a shadow in the moonlight. If anyone paid attention they might be able to see a dark shape and a pair of shining, golden irises, but none do.

* * *

The journey takes him the better part of the day and some time into the evening before Markov Manor comes looming into view from its perch in the mountains. Sorin stops at the edge of the long path that leads up the the place and ponders what to do. He only got this far with the thought of putting Edgar out of his miserable existence, but now that he's this far he wonders if he can do it.

Oh, he wants to. He's dreamt about it for centuries; the day he'll finally enact his ultimate vengeance. He wants to drive his blade into Edgar's heart and twist it. He wants to avenge Elizabeth; the poor woman who's only fault was loving him. It'll be the final nail in the coffin of his humanity, what's left of it at any rate, that much he knows. Elizabeth's memory would be put to rest and Edgar would be dead and rotting away to be fodder for the worms and the ghouls. There would be no need for him to hold onto anything from his old life, a life that should have been gone for years upon years ago.

He needs to do this, so why are his legs refusing to move him?

He takes a deep, unnecessary breath and begins the trek up the mountainside. Below him, he can hear the fighting continuing and if he looks back over his shoulder he might be able to see it. Instead of doing so, however, he focuses on his walking, the wind pulling at his coat and hair. He wants this over with before his resolve leaves him. He can already feel it starting to crumble like stone.

He reaches the manor in less than a half an hour and at the gates stands a pair of guards, the same ones from his last time through if he can recall correctly.

“Sorin Markov, how odd it is to see you here,” one says, lip curling up at the corner. “Can't say that it's expected.”

“Will you allow me entry or do I have to force my way through?” Sorin asks, getting directly to the point.

“Oh, you're a allowed through, my lord,” the other guard speaks as they both pull the heavy iron gates forward. “Lord Edgar expected that you would be by sometime soon.”

“Of course he did,” Sorin mutters darkly as he walks through the gateway and towards the large double doors that lead to the inside. He wouldn't be surprised if Edgar has had all manner of creatures out there, spying for him and bringing back news of his estranged grandson.

The doors creak as they swing open and Sorin steps into a place he hasn't seen in a long time. It looks the same as it always has. It's much too large a home for only an old man to live in; it was too large even when Sorin occupied it as well. He glances at the large, elegant painting of his mother that occupies the entrance hall. Her judgmental eyes follow him when he walks past it. Dead for centuries and the woman is still an adept at passing judgment on her only child.

“Sorin,” Edgar's voice drifts down from the staircase, “welcome.”

Sorin stops in his tracks and swivels his head to stare at him, lips curling back from his fangs. “Edgar,” he bites out.

“You could at least try and look pleased to be allowed back,” Edgar says as he walks down the rest of the stairs and stands in front of Sorin. “I should have known better than to expect you to be grateful.”

Sorin lets out a derisive snort. “Grateful for what, exactly? To be back in your presence? If you recall this was my home and you had no right to exile me from it in the first place, _grandfather.”_

Edgar's eyes flash for a brief moment before they go cold again. “I had every right. You turned your back on your kind by creating that...thing. You're a blood traitor.”

“If anyone is a blood traitor here, Edgar, it's you.” Sorin can feel himself trembling with barely-contained rage. It's taking everything he has not to shoot forward and wrap his hands around Edgar's throat. He needs to remind himself to wait until he has the right moment. Doing it now is not that right moment. “You murdered Elizabeth if you _recall._ You very nearly murdered me when you went through with that ritual. How did you know that I would survive it?”

“We have been over all of this before, Sorin.” Edgar doesn't look at him and there's plenty of exasperation his voice. “There is no need for you to repeat yourself.”

“Obviously there is need for me to say it all over again.”

Edgar makes an disinterested sound. “Come with me, I've something to show you. Without argument if you please.”

* * *

The ballroom had once been the most elegant room in the whole of the manor back in the day, back when his mother Cosima had control of events being held. She'd be livid to see it in such a state of disrepair. The woman ruled everything with an iron fist, including the males of the household, and no one dared tell her otherwise. This room had been her pride and joy, and Sorin is half-convinced that she loved it more than she'd ever loved him.

Dust has gathered everywhere; on the floors, drifting down from the chandeliers and the sconces that many a far-gone day used to glimmer like jewels. The stonework is cracking from years of being ignored and the stained glass is dull and faded. Even the organ that sits at the far side of the room has seen better days, cobwebs hanging wisp-like off of the tall burnished pipes. The smell of mildew and mold that permeates the area is so strong that it's nearly overpowering, clinging to the inside of Sorin's nose. There is one smell that he recognizes but does not belong there: sulfur. His eyes found a burned circle in the stone beneath one of the windows.

He turns to look at Edgar, brows creased as his mind quickly begins to formulate a plan. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Have you not figured it out yet?”

Sorin grunts as pain surges briefly through his veins and centers on the middle of his chest. He clutches at the area. A moment later a voice whispers through his head, dark and hoarse like it's barely used. He can't make out the words but they nonetheless fill him with an existential dread. It lasts only a minute before it's gone and the pain is gone along with the voice.

“Shilgengar...” Sorin utters. His hand goes for the hilt of his sword and draws it, pointing it at Edgar's exposed throat. “What have you done now?”

“Nothing. Only fulfilling promises.” Edgar is visibly unbothered by the blade dangerously close to slicing him open. He lightly pushes it aside with a finger.

“What does any of it have to do with me? I know you're the one who's caused the unrest on Innistrad, but for what reason?” Besides undermining everything that Sorin's done over the past centuries, that is.

“A conversation for another time.”

“No.” Sorin shakes his head. “Now. You will explain now.”

He pulls his sword back and makes to stab it forward. As he does, Edgar moves out of the way, and out of seemingly no where several vampires appear from out of the shadows. He knows exactly what bloodline they hail from.

“Olivia,” Sorin grounds out as he dodges claws meant for his face and removes them with his blade, sending their owner hissing and backing away. “Why does it not surprise me that she would send her people to help you.”

“She's been quite helpful while you were away.” Edgar watches with a hint of a smile as Sorin twists and barely manages to escape a bolt of dark magic. “As has a certain necromancer woman. I believe that you're familiar with Liliana Vess?”

Ah, Vess, Sorin thinks as he stabs into a chest. Her involvement surprises him even less than Olivia's. Liliana's always been rather self-serving, as he recalls, and has a love of Innistrad. In fact, they've crossed paths once or twice when he'd been on-plane, never for long but long enough.

“I thought you might.” Edgar moves out of the way of the fight taking place. “There might be something else you may want to know. That young woman you've been staying with; do you really think it is such a good idea to leave her on her own?”

Sorin freezes for a split second and grunts as a claw manages to actually catch his cheek just enough to leave a three inch long scratch down it. That is the least of his concerns. “You have better not have laid a single finger on her.”

Edgar smirks coldly. “You don't normally care about a single human girl, so why do you care about her in particular? Perhaps because she reminds you of someone you once lost?”

Sorin growls lowly and moves towards Edgar, decapitating a vampire on is way. “I will kill you.”

“Should you really be focusing on me?”

Sorin wants to, and he has to admit that there's a kernel of truth to the bastard's words. He never really cared before, but Valeria is...something. A reincarnation of Elizabeth? It's not really possible. Reincarnation is not something Innistrad is gifted with. Still, the two women are similar. And he didn't miss the obvious threat in Edgar's tone.

With a growl of frustration, Sorin stomps past him. No one stops him as he walks with quick strides down the halls and out the doors. He steals a horse on his way off the property and takes off down the steep path. He knows in his heart that he's not going to like what he'll find when he gets to Valeria.

* * *

Jace hates being right sometimes. He especially hates it right about now.

It's about early morning when Sorin reappears out of the blue, on a stolen horse, and with a wrathful expression donning his face. Jace briefly considers planeswalking right on out of there to avoid the inevitable blowup that will be coming for him but instead holds his ground and prepares for the best way to calm the ancient vampire down without any bodily harm being caused to either of them.

“What are you doing here?” Sorin asks as he shoves his way past him and makes his way to the stairs.

“I thought I might be needed. It didn't feel right sitting back and letting you take care of everything. This is my job, you know.” Jace follows close behind, mentally calculating the number of steps to reach Valeria's abandoned room.

“Magnificent effort that you've made so far,” Sorin says stormily as he shoves open the door and sees the mess that was left in the wake of Valeria's abduction. He punches the door frame hard enough that his vampire strength cracks the wood. Sorin swivels on his foot to glare at Jace. “Why didn't you protect Valeria if you were here?”

“She was in bed and I was out. How was I supposed to know?” Jace can't quite mask his annoyance. “If I had, I would've prepared for it. What now, then? I assume that you're going to be doing something.”

“I know who took her,” Sorin moves on, going back down stairs. Jace darts down first so as to not get run over by Sorin's hasty steps. He wouldn't have been surprised if Sorin pushed him down them for not moving quickly enough. “You'll be coming with if you don't wish for me to leave you strung up for the wolves to eat.”

“I wouldn't dare deny you even if I could.” Jace doesn't always make the best life decisions, but he's forward thinking enough not to argue with Sorin about this. Besides, he does feel a bit responsible. He should have heard _something._ “You said you know who took her; who is it?”

“Olivia Voldaren, I have no doubt.” Sorin checks over his armor and sword. “The blasted woman has been a thorn in my side for centuries.”

“Judging by your previous comment you intend on going to her estate?”

“Yes, and I'll kill her if I need to.” Sorin sounds all too pleased about the prospect. Jace doesn't need to ask why. “It shouldn't take too long to get there if we ride most of the day without stopping, which I plan on.”

“I hope you have another horse.” Jace has no intention on riding behind a grumpy vampire for who knows how long. That would test even Jace's perseverance.

Sorin looks at him for a moment and rolls his eyes. “Obviously. Now come on.”

Jace does just that.

It's going to be a long ride and he has a feeling that Sorin's mood is unlikely to improve until Valeria is next to him again.

* * *

The first thought that goes through her head is she has no idea where she is. The second is that it's dark.

Valeria groans and sits up on what feels like is a bed, far too large to be her own. She can faintly recall the fight in her room and being knocked out, but from there she has no memory. It's enough of one, however, and she has to fight down her growing panic forcefully. Panicking right now isn't going to be remotely helpful to her cause. She needs to keep a level head if she wants to get through this situation.

The room that she's been placed in seems large, from what she can see in the dark -mostly just shapes at the corners- and probably elegant knowing the pleasure vampires derive from beautiful things. She knows the basics on the creatures and it's one of the things that is quite certain. There are some people who actually admire their tastes in fashion and nice things. Valeria can admit that she was once one of them. It was a far cry from her own humble abode. But that was all in the past. Being threatened sort of tends to do that to a person.

Her head pounded as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and it takes her a moment for her feet to find the cool wooden floors. She really wishes that there was a candle or something so that she could actually see what was around her proper and possibly come up with a plan of escape. She was certainly not going to sit around and wait for someone to come to her. The only vampire she had any urge to deal with was Sorin and even then he was 50/50 on her tolerance scale right now. Did he even know that she was missing? How long _had_ she been missing? She had been unconscious until now and how long that was, she doesn't have the slightest idea. It's impossible to tell from this room alone.

“You're awake.”

Valeria nearly jumps out of her skin when the door opens with an eerie quietness and a woman appears in the doorway. She's very beautiful with bright red curls cascading down her back and around her face where red and black eyes stare out. She's wearing a long dark dress of unusual design with spikes of jet black protruding from the bodice and coming off of her arms and neck. Even the elaborate necklace that frames her jaw has them.

“You've been out for quite a while, you know. I would have thought you dead if it wasn't for that little human heart beating like a bird in your chest. I can hear it now, in fact.” The woman closes her eyes for a moment and inhales.

“Where am I?” Valeria asks. She really wishes that she had a weapon on her. This woman might have a kind and lovely face, but the aura around her is purely predatory. The most Valeria can do is gather what she can of mana to fuel a spell and hope that if she uses it it'll work. “Who are you?”

“How rude of me. I'm Olivia Voldaren, and you are, my dear, a guest at my estate.”

Valeria feels anything but like a guest; she feels like prey under Olivia's hungry gaze.


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing quite like old ghosts of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters in a month has got to be some kind of record. 
> 
> Sorry for the general messiness of this chapter. For some reason it gave me a lot of trouble and took a bit of retooling to actually come out. I'll probably have to take a look at this again later and fix anything that needs redone.

 

Valeria has always wanted to go to a ball, getting to dress up in a beautiful gown and sip high quality wines with an elegant crowd. This, however, is not the sort of ball she ever wanted to be involved in; surrounded by vampires, all of them waiting until three days have passed so that they can dine on her blood. No, she rather wishes she was still at home.

They've dressed her up like a doll in a white gown of lace and silk and pulled her hair into an elaborate up-do in order to tame the mess of curls and waves. On top of that they've stuck her up on a dais to be the center of attention in the ballroom of Olivia's estate with a crown on her head.

The Queen of the Vampires, she had been told by the woman, is what she will be for these three days spent partying. Well, the vampires will be partying; she'll be sitting on her perch hoping that a fiery inferno fills the room and burns them all to ash. At this point she doesn't care if it would take her as well. It'll be a far kinder fate than what Olivia has in store for her. She'd been so kind as to explain what will happen once the three days are up.

“I wonder how dear Sorin will react when he comes to find you, which he will, and discovers that you've been anointed,” Olivia had said as she applied rouge to Valeria's lips and kohl to the edges of her eyelids. “Sure it would be far easier to simply kill you like so many others, but I do like a little drama.” 

“And what do you intend to do after that?” Valeria asked, trying to keep her voice calm and level even while she shakes with nerves. “I know you don't just want him to deal with vampire me.”

“You're a very observational child.” Olivia stepped back to look at her work. “I'm sure you already know.”

And so Valeria sits on her 'throne' and watches the revelers dance to music played by masked musicians as she awaits. She somehow doubts that they will truly wait until the three days are up when Sorin comes it'll be sooner than that. It stinks of a trap and she has no way of warning him. All she can do is hope that he will realize that it is as well and won't let his anger get the best of him, which she suspects is probably happening. It isn't because he cares more than usual for her, if anything its because his enemies have gotten the upper-hand and he doesn't like it.

Valeria keeps her expression empty as she's given food and wine with the mockery she expected. Why feed her when they're just going to kill her? She doesn't speak to them as she sips her wine and eats the food placed in front of her. She's not going to starve herself, either. Jokes on them if they thought she would.

Valeria is hyper aware of the all the pairs of alien eyes that rake over her form and all the fanged grins aimed in her direction, and she lifts her chin defiantly.

“You're doing well for yourself,” Olivia comments as she wanders over to check up on her so-called guest. “Brave girl that you are.”

“Does it matter how well I do in this situation? You're either going to make me a vampire or kill me, whichever comes first.” Valeria spears a potato with her fork and shoves it into her mouth. Chew. Swallow. Sarcasm. “I might as well not let all of this food go to waste.”

Olivia frowns at her and then shrugs, lips curling upwards to replace the frown.

“Please, do. It's what it's there for.”

Valeria snorts. It's not as if the aristocratic woman can eat them. It's here for her. She's not planning on being used by anyone here. She'll prove it however she needs to, and in this case it just happens to mean eat the food most people would be too frightened to eat. She's afraid but that won't stop her. 

* * *

Sorin barely notices Jace riding beside him as they traverse from Valeria's village to the Voldaren Estate. It's a decent distance but not impossible under the short amount of time they have. He's already put the pieces together on why Olivia chose Valeria and it's not difficult. Lately anything anyone does is to deliberately get under his skin. This is unlikely to be any different.

“So you know that she's expecting us?” Jace says when they're nearing the location, both of them a bit saddle sore by this point, but neither of them complaining about it. “How do you intend on getting in there without giving yourself away.”

Sorin glances at Jace. “This is where you would come in, I believe. You with all your illusionary tricks should be able to pull something off, don't you think?”

Jace nods. “You want me to cloak you from view. Simple enough, I guess. Although I'll be the first to admit I'm not all that excited about attending a ball filled with vampires. If we get involved in any combat, I'll be in trouble.”

“I'm sure you can handle yourself just fine, Beleren,” Sorin drawls with a hint of a smirk that borderlines on cruel. Maybe it's a little mean to take pleasure in Jace's nervousness, but after the last night and day he's had he finds it a little difficult to be sympathetic.

Jace sighs and shifts in the saddle. “If you insist,” he murmurs tiredly. “ Doubt Olivia is just going to let you walk out with Valeria without a fight.”

“That I agree with you. She's a crafty woman and she's had it out for me ever since Avacyn came into creation, if not before that.” Since Elizabeth, he's almost certain. “She might not loathe me as much as Edgar does, but that doesn't mean that she will spare me, either.”

That he can be sure of.

They ride for another hour or two before Olivia's large estate house comes into view.

“This is the place,” Sorin says just loud enough for Jace to hear him. “Be ready.”

* * *

Valeria has lost track of how much time has passed since she was brought to Olivia's estate, between the crowds of vampires around her and the lack of sunlight visible to her eyes. She's no longer hungry and the wine has lost its appeal. She leans back in her chair with a sigh and tugs at the neckline of her gown. The corset beneath is starting become uncomfortable. She'd rather rip of off and use the boning to stab the next vampire that looks at her too intently in the eye.

Avacyn, she really does hope that Sorin comes soon. Her nerves are beyond rattled and frayed, and she's completely finished with this whole thing. It's taking all of her self control not to scream in frustration. Oh, and she'd really rather not become a vampire or die. Neither one sounds particularly swell.

“Come with me, child,” Olivia says, sidling up beside her, smelling strongly of old blood and death. “I'd like to speak to you somewhere quiet.”

Valeria glares down at her. “I don't see why. So that you can kill me?”

Olivia rolls her eyes and huffs. “I'm not going to kill you, I told you that. Now, come with me.”

Valeria's glare doesn't let up but she follows her out of the ballroom and to a smaller room nearby, arms crossed and back straight, kept in that position by the corset. The room in question is no less elegantly furnished than the ballroom. No later than entering it, she's grabbed by someone and her world goes black for a second time in a day.

* * *

It's something of a miracle that neither Sorin nor Jace are noticed as they walk inside Olivia's large home. It had taken them a bit to actually get inside, having left the horses near an old church not far away from there. Sorin's hand is never far from his sword, ready for whatever or whoever makes an appearance. It's almost too easy and he isn't going to let his guard down again. He's done it too often since he had returned to his home plane. Too many mistakes.

"You go that way and I'll go this way," Jace says quietly. He's cast a spell on them to make them invisible to any eyes but each others, but that doesn't do anything for noise they might make. He's already readying spells with small movements of his hands.

Sorin makes a sound of acknowledgment and begins walking in the opposite direction of Jace. His ears pick up on the sounds of merriment and he follows it until he finds the ballroom. He scans the room and while he does see the stand where Valeria should be seated, the girl is not there. Frowning he sends out his senses and tries to feel out for Valeria's scent. It takes him a moment, but he manages it.

Something feels off when he enters the room and it's easy enough to know why as he sees Valeria laying on a lounge near a opulent fireplace and Olivia seated beside her, lightly brushing her fingers through her hair. Sorin pulls out his sword as he approaches.

“Olivia,” Sorin rumbles, the spell making him invisible fading with his will, and he's pointing the blade at her chest, just above the neckline of her gown. “Give her to me.”

“No need for weapons, dear, feel free to take her.” It seems too simple. Why take her if she's just going to hand her right back?

His first instinct is to fight her, but looking at Valeria, he knows that in this situation getting her out of there first is priority. So he sheaths his sword and leans down to pick her up, eyes scanning her form for any damage and finding none visible. When he looks back at Olivia he's glaring again. He, however, doesn't say anything. He simply turns and walks away, attempting to keep his temper in check for Valeria's benefit.

As soon as he's out of the room, Jace reappears seemingly out of no where.

“You have her?”

Sorin raises an eyebrow. “Yes. Although it seems...off.”

Jace looks around Sorin's shoulder and sees Olivia as well. “and she just let you take her? That's a little easy.”

Sorin nods. “That was my thought. Either way, let's go before she changes her mind. If I don't, I may just kill her.”

“A good idea.” Jace sticks close, casting a spell onto Valeria to make her invisible as well as them.

They're just getting outside when Valeria groans and shifts in Sorin's grasp.

“Put me down, I'm awake,” she mumbles.

Sorin does so and his hands hover near her shoulders in case her legs fail her. She waves them off impatiently. “I'm alright, please, don't fuss over me.”

“Did they do anything to you?” Sorin asks her.

Valeria frowns a little and rubs at her head. “I don't believe so? Nothing beyond knocking me out that is. I don't know what the point of that was.”

“Good.” Sorin turns his attention to Jace as his senses latch onto something familiar. He can't quite put his finger on it, but it calls out to him like a siren song.“ Do me a favor and take her. I need to find something.”

“Find what?” Jace asks, stepping forward.

“Just do as I say,” he snaps with annoyance. The pull he feels is growing stronger. It's distracting. “Please.”

“Sorin...” Valeria sighs. “I'm perfectly fine coming with you. I'm not broken.”

“That doesn't matter.” Sorin can feel a headache growing. “Go with Jace. Rejoin with me at the old church. Do you know where it is?”

“No, I was not awake for the trip here.”

“I know where it is. I saw it when we came in,” Jace speaks up, looking a little uncomfortable with the argument threating to start up between Sorin and Valeria. “I'll take her there.”

Valeria wants to say something, he can see it on her face, but she shifts her jaw and begins walking away from them both, leaving Jace running to catch up with her.

“ _Be careful,_ ” Jace sends into Sorin's mind. “ _Whatever you're going to look for isn't nice._ ”

“ _I know._ ”

Sorin follows his senses as Jace and Valeria fade from his view, and they take him down to the old stables that he can remember visiting a few years into his ascension. They're crumbling in their state of disrepair, Olivia apparently having no use for them, and smell of mold and old hay. He's only just stepped into them when a figure appears from the shadows, sending him taking a step back away from where it stands.

“Hello, Sorin.” Immediately every single forgotten memory comes rushing back into her head like an avalanche.

“But you’re dead,” Sorin rasps in surprise It’s like staring at a ghost, only she isn’t. She’s flesh and blood and smiling at him as if thousands of years hasn’t happened. “How’s this possible? Why?”

Elizabeth Voldaren, in the flesh dusts off her gown. Elizabeth's as beautiful as she had always been with her auburn curls and enchanting smile, but she's off now. Her eyes are no longer their deep green but black and red, and her naturally sun-kissed skin is pale and gray and cold like his own. The smile she gives him shows off her now slightly pointed canines. However manner in which she's returned it's bestowed upon her the same state as his, and it has changed her, not for the better.

“And my being back surprises you? You must be getting forgetful in your old age.” She takes a step towards Sorin and watches with quiet laughter as he practically jumps out of his skin. “You’ve been spending much too much time away from Innistrad.”

“That shouldn’t matter. I watched you die. Your throat was cut. If anything you should be a ghost or a ghoul. Not _this._ ”

“Obviously I am neither.” Elizabeth gestures to her form, neither rotting nor transparent. “You are right; I did die. I was brought back only recently. Death is such a temporary thing in Innistrad.”

“Why?” There's a few reasons going through his head on why she would have been brought back and none of them are good. The most prominent one being to tempt him like some forbidden fruit. The only ones that know his true feelings for Elizabeth are Edgar and Valeria, and this is no trick done by the latter that much Sorin knows for certain. That only leaves the former. “Who?”

As if to prove him right, Elizabeth replies in a light and friendly voice, “Edgar, of course. He had help, but ultimately he's the one that decided it. He cares enough about you that he felt guilty for my death.”

“He wouldn't care now, not after a millenia, not after what he's done. He wouldn't bring you back unless he was going to get something for it.”

“As paranoid as ever. Can't you just accept that something is good without fear?” Elizabeth reaches out to touch Sorin's arm. He pulls it away. She frowns at him, eyes flashing briefly with annoyance before settling back to a lifeless gaze. “It's that child isn't it? Valeria. She's made you forget about me.”

It's like getting punched in the gut. She's using every little bit of guilt he still harbors against him.

“I never forgot about you, but you were dead. You cannot have expected me to mourn forever.” He mourned for such a long time, until he practically ripped it from his chest, but he moved on. He had to. “You would have never held it against me.”

“I know that you loved me,” Elizabeth goes on to say, stalking around him. The sound of her silk dress whispers over the stone, muffling the sounds of her heels. The air around her smells of flowers and death. “Just as I loved you. I still love you, Sorin. Can we not carry on with it? Can you not admit it to me?”

“You're right; I loved you. I'll never not love you.” His hands are trembling. He clenches them into fists in an effort to steady them. It does nothing for his churning stomach. “However, this is not you.”

“It is me, my love. This is who I am, now. I'll never age and never die. I'll be young and beautiful forever, unlike her. She'll grow old and die in front of your eyes. When you're around, that is. I know how you love to travel. You always did get restless so easily.” She continues to circle him until he presses himself against the wall. The smell of death is stronger. “Forget the girl. You'd never anoint her anyway. You're afraid of what would happen if you did.”

He knows what she's doing. Trying to emotionally manipulate him and exploit his weaknesses, which at the moment happens to be a certain Stensian human girl.

“Elizabeth, do not do this,” he attempts to plead, hoping that what's left of her human self might react to it. “Just let me go.”

He doesn't expect the slap and the stinging in his cheek that immediately follows as her talon like nails slice into his skin.

“Be quiet,” she hisses and presses a hand to his neck, squeezing just slightly. “Clearly any attempt to reason with you is not going to work. Well, I can tell you this; I am not going to die again. If I don't do as they say they'll kill me, again, and I'll go back to that horrible unlife. Do you not understand?”

Sorin growls and yanks her hand away. “Yes, obviously the best way for this to work out in your favor is attempt to manipulate and if that doesn't work, threaten.”

“You would know. You've been magnificent at the fine art of manipulation. Don't think that I didn't watch you over the years.” She walks away furiously. When she turns to look at him again, her teeth are bared. “You talk down to me even now.”

“I'm not trying to talk down to you.” He drags a hand through his hair. “You should have stayed dead.”

Elizabeth snarls. “Be quiet.”

“No, it's true. It would have been far better than for you to come back as this hateful creature that Edgar's cultivated.”

This time he does expect the retaliation, and he catches her clawed fingers when she shoots towards him in a fury of red and black.

“Shut up!” she screeches, half-sobbing. She collapses in front of him as he lets go of her, and she grasps onto his thigh like he's her lifeline on a stormy sea. “Why did this happen? I just wanted to come back.”

“I don't know what to tell you,” Sorin sighs, staring down at his once-dead childhood friend, emotions conflicting in his chest.

“I hate this,” Elizabeth whispers, and only through his enhanced hearing does he manage to hear it. “I never wanted to come back this way,” she repeats, “I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm so angry. I don't feel like me anymore.”

“That's what it does, becoming what we are. You shouldn't have been able to be brought back. Edgar's doing something, working with someone.” She doesn't deserve such a life. To be a vampire is a trial; embrace it or be consumed by it. Her gentle spirit can't handle such a fate. “If I can help you, I will.”

Elizabeth sniffles and climbs back to her feet. She attempts to straighten out her hair and clothes. “I will hold you to that promise, Markov. If you don't, I'll kill you.”

“I suppose that you will anyway.”

“Yes, I suppose that I will.”


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are more trouble than they're worth.

The look on Valeria's face is worth its weight in gold when she appears and sees them, and if it was any other time Sorin would have found it funny, but not now, not with Elizabeth standing beside him, glaring down at the diminutive girl, not when he'd purposefully sent her away. He sees the wheels turning in her head as she tries to figure out what's happening.

“You're...” she starts, pointing a thin finger at Elizabeth, recognizing her, somehow. “But, you were dead.”

“Yes, I was, as everyone seems so keen to point out to me.” Elizabeth tosses her curls over her shoulder. “I was brought back, not that it is of any concern of yours.”

“I don't understand,” Valeria mutters, her eyes flicking over to Sorin and back to Elizabeth. “It doesn't make sense.”

“It wouldn't to a little girl like you. Why don't you wander off. Go play with your toys. “ Elizabeth's antagonism is back in full force and Sorin is again shocked by the change in personality.

“Now, wait just a damn moment,” Valeria snaps, fists clenching. “You have no right to talk to me like that.”

“I have every right, child.”

Valeria's eyes narrows. “Listen here, you-”

“Stop it, both of you,” Sorin says, loud enough to be heard over the growing argument and rubbing at his temples. He doesn't need nor desire to have the two women in his life throwing insults at each other. “Valeria, I'll explain as soon as I can. Elizabeth, stop trying to antagonize her.”

Both women glare at him, but the arguing does cease. Thank the hells for little miracles, he supposes. It's better than having it escalate any further than it has. Better that he doesn't have to physically intervene. It might have happened with a lot more of a mess.

“Oh, I hope so,” Valeria replies to his words. He's puzzled she isn't more surprised than she is. “I have a lot of questions.”

He watches her walk away and when he tears his gaze from her back to fix them on Elizabeth, he's met a hostile gaze. Why is this happening? If she were anyone else he would pluck her eyes from her skull, instead he very nearly wilts under it, something that should be ridiculous at any other time in his long life.

“I am not coming with you,” Elizabeth says, ending the eye contact first. She twists a crimson colored curl around a long, pale finger. “I wish you would think about what I said. It would save you a lot of heartache in the end. However, I'm beginning to think that it's your mistake to make.”

“Fine,” Sorin says, weariness settling into him. “I can live with this.”

He turns, grabbing Valeria more roughly than he means to around her upper arm and practically drags her away. He's certain that she can feel far too much emotion trembling through his fingers.

They've barely made it out of the old stables before Valeria starts with the questions.

“How is it possible?” She doesn't have to clarify for him to know what she means.

“I don't know.” Sorin keeps walking, letting go of her arm. “But I do know who brought her back. What magic he used for it is beyond me, only that the woman he brought back is not the same woman who died. I've never seen such hostility in her before.”

“I believe it.” Valeria sticks close to his side but casts a wary look over her shoulder. “Is it some sort of necromantic magic? ”

That's an excellent question. He guesses that it's entirely possible. After all, Elizabeth had been well and truly dead. Her body should have been completely decomposed and yet she looked as young and as in one piece as she had when she'd been living, never mind the new status as a vampire. Perhaps she's truly undead, like the vampires of other planes.

“Possibly,” he murmurs.

“If Elizabeth wasn't like this in life, what was she like when you knew her?” At least Valeria is making the attempt to understand this bizarre situation that they've most recently found themselves involved in. “You never did tell me much about her. Apart from her beauty, which apparently you weren't exaggerating about.”

“Much like you,” he says cryptically as they continue to walk. The breeze picks up and swirls around them, carrying the scent of rain. “Sweet, compassionate, unyielding in her convictions. She did not possess your temper, that much could be said, which is what makes her current one so strange to me.”

Valeria's frowning in thought, trying to decide if the comparison is s a good one or not. In light of her and Elizabeth's first meeting it can easily be taken as insult. “Is it common for personality changes when you're...anointed?”

“In a manner,” Sorin explains just as rain begins to fall from the clouds. They duck beneath a cover of trees for temporary shelter, not far from the old church. “For some it does. Not everyone can keep the human parts of themselves and feed on the living. Most changes in personality happen because they cannot cope with the killing. Others just enjoy it too much.”

Valeria shivers, wrapping her arms around herself. “Did it happen to you?”

“In some ways, I think. We all cope differently. I was initially angry. Not because of being what I am, but the method in which it was done. I was lied to and forced into it.” Without thinking, Sorin pulls Valeria up against his side to help shield her from the chill. “Over time I embraced what I am. Although, I'm not proud of some of the things I've done.”

He'd killed without remorse and became detached from his humanity. Over time he learned to find a balance between over-indulgence and survival. The aspect of drinking blood still to this day disgusts him, makes him feel weak and too human. When he'd been younger he'd hoped that perhaps over time he could stop drinking it. After all, he can travel to other worlds and is far more powerful than most can hope to be. And yet, it remains a necessity. His time with Zdena had proven that there's no way out of it.

Valeria's watching him closely, her interest hanging on his every word. She's so young. She's considered a grown woman in the eyes of humans, but to him she's still so very young. He thinks of what Elizabeth had said. Valeria will indeed wither and die, if she isn't killed first with her reckless nature. He can anoint her, but would she be the same? What would it do to her?

“I'm sorry,” she says quietly.

“For what, exactly?”

“That your love has returned to you, but in the way that she has. Here I am asking invasive questions and you're probably hurting.” She sighs and leans into his embrace absently, one of her little hands wrapping around his larger one. “You've been through a lot.”

It's strange that a few words spoken from this girl is enough to warm some dark cold place within him. He never expected it. To be honest, he's still shaken from Elizabeth's return. All those old memories and feelings he'd forgotten or shoved into the back of his mind have returned, and old wounds are torn open. He isn't sure what to do.

“Sorin?” Valeria's craned her head up and is staring at him with concern. He must have blanked out for a moment.

“I'm fine, it's nothing.”

She's giving him a strange look, tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth. A feeling passes over him and for a moment he almost considers doing something...

“There you two are.”

Jace's voice breaks whatever atmosphere is forming, causing Valeria to jump away skittishly, almost tripping over the layers of skirts that she's been dressed in. Sorin's hand is quick to catch her arm before she can topple over. “Jace,” Valeria breathes, relaxing, “I'm sorry.”

“You were supposed to take her with you,” Sorin says tersely.

“Yes, well, for a tiny thing she has a very mean right hook,” Jace explains, rubbing his jaw where a bruise is beginning to bloom, visible beneath hood of his cloak.

“You are a mind reader and you didn't see that coming?” Sorin questions with a shake of his head. He glances at Valeria who at least is willing to try and look sheepish for her actions. “Why did you not just do as asked?”

She shrugs a little and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “I don't like being told what to do. That, and I worry from time to time.”

Sorin sighs, feeling tired as the events of the past twenty-four hours catch up to him. He does not have the energy to deal with fighting with her, not now, not after traveling so quickly to get her back. Sorin runs a hand through his hair. “Fine. Now that we are all back together and in one piece, I'd like to get out of the rain.”

* * *

He's not pleased with her, Valeria thinks as she sits in front of him on the horse while on their way back to her village. He hasn't spoken a single word since they left their secluded wooded shelter and he's tense behind her. Although, she supposes, it could also have to do with Elizabeth. Death isn't so final on Innistrad, but a person being risen as a vampire thousands of years afterwards is new even for them. There has to be some level of shock he's experiencing. After all, the woman _had_ been dead, properly dead, and he had mourned for her.

Valeria considers her own level of shock as she leans against Sorin for support, feeling sleepy with the movement of the horse below her. She should be suffering from something after her short stint as nearly food for vampires. Hells, she can't even remember being knocked out for the second time or why she was. There's a couple of unsettling gaps in her memory that she feels she should be concerned about.

At some point or another she dozes off mid-thought and feels a firm arm wrap around her midsection to keep her from leaning too far off the horse. When she wakes, they've made it to her home already and the sun is starting to rise. She feels achy all over from the ride and the gown is heavy with rain water and mud. She needs a bath and proper sleep. She's not sure which one will be done first.

Sorin's face comes into view as he helps her down and for the first time, she notices there's a cut down his cheek. It's not a pleasant shade of red and it looks deep enough that without proper care it'll leave a nasty scar.

“Where did that come from?” she asks drowsily. She reaches towards it and stops just short of actually tracing down the length of it. “I should take look at that.”

Sorin is quick to set her back on her feet and releases her waist. “A lucky hit. It's nothing to be cornered about.”

“I will be the judge of that,” Valeria says. She's already considering the best way to mend it. Perhaps she'll actually try a healing spell this time. Would he object?

Sorin stares at her for a moment, growls, and throws his arms out at his sides before marching inside, leaving Jace and Valeria watching him go.

“Prideful man,” Valeria mumbles, shaking her head. “He has a nice face. One would think he'd be glad to be rid of any damage done to it.”

Jace chuckles sympathetically and lays a hand on Valeria's shoulder. “Give him time to come around. I'm sure by tonight he'll have changed his mind.”

“It might do him some good to learn how to communicate like an adult rather than an over-sized toddler.”

Valeria lifts her skirts and stomps off after him. She catches Sorin at his room and watches him go about stripping off his armaments and tunic with a wince. The stitches have, once again, given up any hope of keeping his side closed and Valeria manages to keep her mouth shut when Sorin's fingers dig too hard into the wound.

“There was once a time this would have healed without any intervention,” Sorin says as he turns around to look at her. “I may heal faster than a mortal, but it's nothing as compared to half a century ago.”

“What happened then?” Valeria steps past the threshold once she's sure that he isn't going to shut the door in her face.

“Something called the Mending and a plane called Dominaria. It ultimately meant that any Planeswalkers from before its events lost a large percentage of our power. There was a good reason for it. If nothing had been done even Innistrad would have felt the ripples.” Sorin sits on the edge of his borrowed bed. “If I wasn't what I am and if I did not possess as much age as I do, it would have crippled my power far more.”

“Why tell me this?” She hopes it isn't another one of his cautionary tales. She might actually smack him if it is.

“Because I forget sometimes that I am not the same person from before that.” Sorin gestures to the wound. “Elizabeth's return has caused me to remember more than I wish to.”

Valeria swallows and nods. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Yes, I'll be fine.” He doesn't sound like it.

Valeria decides that it will be in his best interest to move the conversation elsewhere. “Here, do you mind if I use a healing spell on you? Stitches are apparently not going to be effective with you.”

Sorin moves his arm so that Valeria can better reach the jagged, torn skin. “By all means.”

“Okay, just let me know if something doesn't seem right.”

She reaches out presses her fingers to the wound just enough that it touches and draws in as much mana as she can before releasing it into a spell. The sensation is warm and tingly and it should feel the same to him. She can see the skin slowly knitting itself back together with a calm golden glow. After a short moment, there's nothing but a faint white line where the cut used to be.

There's no ill effects and Valeria now wishes she'd taken the chance at healing him the day he appeared at her door rather than wait until now.

“I thought that holy magic would harm you,” she admits as Sorin pulls his shirt back on over his head. “Although I guess I should have known. You created an angel and the religion for her.”

“You could not have known otherwise.” Sorin gives her a wave of his hand, then looks down at his wrist with a scowl. “If it wasn't for these blasted bands, I could have simply taken care of it myself.”

“I wish I could help with those,” Valeria sighs. If only she knew how. The magic binding them to Sorin is so strange.

“You've done what you can,” he says, shifting this way and that to make sure there's nothing that feels off.

“Do you want me to heal the cut on your cheek?”

“It's the least of my concerns. It can heal on its own. Save your magic.” He slips his tunic back on, but leaves his coat draped over a chair. His broadsword is leaned against it, within arms reach. Sorin's gaze flickers to Valeria and softens slightly. “You should go take care of yourself.”

She should, Valeria thinks. She's aching to get out of this dress and corset. She wants to scrub her skin clean. Not to mention her head is beginning to hurt as all the adrenaline she's been feeling is wearing out. She's going to have to deal with what's happened, but she's not going to deal with it right this second.

“Okay,” she tells him. She's too tired to say much else at the moment.

* * *

Once Valeria is out of the room, Sorin slumps back against the mattress and tiredly rubs his face. He could use sleep and a bath as well after the mess he's been in. Every muscle in his body feels tense.

Gods, what was Edgar thinking by bringing Elizabeth back? Yes, it certainly did the job of getting him thrown off kilter, but did the man not consider the repercussions of bringing back to life a woman who's been dead for so long? She's mentally and emotionally unbalanced, not slightly the same woman she used to be. It's not going to end favorably for anyone. She hates Edgar almost more than he does.

He considers Valeria and what Elizabeth had told him.

He has an awful track record with the women he's had in his life so far. Elizabeth and Nahiri; Valeria is likely to go the same route at some point. He's so damn afraid of getting closer to her, that he might change this soft creature into something she's not meant to be. Already he can see it happening. She's growing more reckless and putting herself at risk. And while Sorin in the past is glad to push people out of their comfort zones and face the harsh reality, he just...can't do the same to her as he has to countless others.

Sorin groans.

Why is his mind deciding now is the time to ramble onto topics that it doesn't need to? Intrusive thoughts are the last thing he needs. What he does need to do is leave here for a while, dig into things in Thraben, and possibly contact Avacyn. Speaking with her may help him decide what his next move will be. His attempt at killing Edgar turned out about as terribly as it could have, and things are not going to get any better if the man really has been working with the demon again.

Sometimes Sorin wonders why he bothers trying to make people see sense when all they're going to do is ignore him.


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only way to go when you hit rock bottom is to claw your way back up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to say too much here so I'll be quick.
> 
> There is a short, but intense, scene at the end of this chapter that could be uncomfortable (i.e. violence that's borderline torture) so if you want to avoid that you can. It's right after the last page break.

Valeria takes the news about as well as Sorin presumed that she would when he tells her that he's leaving -again-. By the way she glares at him, lips thinned, eyes narrowed, he half-expects her to try and strike him. Like him, it doesn't look like she's gotten much sleep, which does absolutely nothing for their nerves or patience.

“Why?” Valeria asks him. There's a slight tremor in her voice that she's trying to hide, but it's plainly noticeable. “You should at least wait a few days before heading out again. We both need rest.”

“Which is why you will be remaining here and watched closely this time.” Sorin shoots a look towards where Jace sits. Jace gives him an exasperated shrug.“I cannot afford to simply sit back. Or worry about you. I've already lost one opportunity to rid myself of Edgar. I'm not likely to get another one.”

“Damn it, Sorin.” Valeria slams the flats of her hands against the arms of her chair and flies to her feet. “Why can't you see that revenge is going to give you nothing but pain?” Now it's Valeria's turn to look at Jace. “Can't you do something about this?”

Jace shakes his head. He's shed his cloak and nurses a cup of tea, and yet still manages to look out of place in the room. He looks like he wishes he still had it as he sinks further back in his seat, eyes flickering from Valeria's angry expression to Sorin's more controlled one.“I can't. This is his choice. Even if I tried, he'd kill me.”

“I would,” Sorin replies. Beleren is lucky he didn't kill him for getting Valeria kidnapped. The girl herself doesn't look remotely impressed with Jace's response and Sorin can see her starting to open her mouth for a retort. Quickly, he puts his hands on her shoulders. Almost immediately she relaxes at his touch. Perhaps it's unfair to manipulate her this way, using her feelings against her, but it needs to be done. “I will come back, I swear to you, but something must be done. If I can't do anything about Edgar for the time, the least I can do is try to solve the situation with the humans.”

“I just have a very bad feeling,” Valeria mutters, slumping forward. “So far nothing has gone as you'd like. This is unlikely to be any different.”

“Valeria has a point, Sorin,” Jace speaks up. “Maybe we should all come with. You might have a better chance.”

“No.” It's a sharper response than he intends and he feels Valeria jump beneath his hands. “No,” he says again, softer this time, “I'm the lord of this plane. I will be the one to handle this. As much as I...appreciate your assistance,” he looks down at Valeria, “I cannot ask any more of you. Neither of you.”

Besides, too much damage has been done to Valeria's reputation as it is. She's been a target once and has alienated and made an outcast thanks to him. It's better if he leaves and handles the rest on his own, putting space between himself and her, if he can manage it. He doesn't expect it to be an easy thing to do. He has gotten far too close to her already. He's formed an attachment.

“You can't just expect me -us- to just sit back and hope that you don't get yourself killed.” Valeria pulls away from him. “Look at what's happened so far.”

Sorin takes a deep breath to keep his temper under wraps. No, there's no need for him to get upset with her. She has a fair point. He's done a piss poor job at keeping things from getting out of control. Nothing has gone right since he's come back. Maybe this is his punishment for not paying enough attention to his home lately, or its inhabitants. He will not deny that he's made some mistakes along the way that are currently biting him in the arse.

“I don't ask you to be concerned about me,” he tells her carefully.

“Yes, well, that does not change the fact that I _am.”_

What is worse is that he cares, too. There was a time he wouldn't have given a rat's tit about what she was saying. Yet here he was; caring.

Biting back any additional comments beyond the necessary, he said, “I'm going now. If all goes well I should be back in a few days.”

* * *

That was the intention, at any rate. Like most things in life, or unlife as the case may be, events do not always go as one plans. Which does seem to be shaping up to be the continuing narration of his existence lately.

Sorin doesn't encounter many on his journey to Thraben, the seat of the Church of Avacyn. He sticks to the back roads that are rarely taken in fear of what lurks in the hidden places and travels mostly at night. If there is anyone or anything watching him as he rides by, they leave him be. Smart move on their part, as he's just in the sort of mood where he'd enjoy a good fight and it never hurts to feed again if the thing that attacks him is human.

However, those that do cross his path skitter away without a word, in a hurry to get out of his way. Vampires are so common place within the boundary of Stensia that most know better to just stay away from them without a fuss. Lucky for him, Sorin supposes. It makes for less trouble, and it remains this way until he goes through the Kruin Pass into Gavony. Here, the humans are bolder and the fighting amongst them more common place than between the stoic Stensians. Even sticking to less populated areas poses a risk and they're far more prone to attacking here.

This proves to be the case when Sorin is forced to cut down a moderately sized group of combatants when they turn their attention to him. Sorin isn't certain that they attack him because they know who he is or if it's simply because he's a vampire. Either way, he takes them out one by one, keeping an eye out for any mages that may cause him issue. There isn't any and those with swords prove to be barely trained well enough to handle the weapons. He nearly feels bad for the removal of one's head, sending it thumping to the ground and rolling to the feet of his comrades and their neck spraying blood and bone. The body is quick to rot and dissolve as the Parasite Blade greedily sucks the remaining life out of it.

Sorin leaves the bodies where they lay. It would appear to anyone who came across them that they cut each other down. The unnatural rot of the Parasite Blade's touch, however, gives away the illusion, but it's his hope that by then he'll be well and truly out of the area.

* * *

It's by some strange divine fate that he does not run into any more persons, human or otherwise, before he reaches the outskirts of Thraben. He can see the Silburlind River coming up from the Bay of Vustrow and flowing into the Lake of Herons. Beside Thraben, the spires of the Cathedral of Avacyn is visible against the backdrop of the Innistradi clouds. The church is a symbol of everything he's done for the people of this land and apparently his thanks is the attacks he's dealt with. Apparently saving them is not enough to outdo his nature and species. It's not anger he feels at this, just disappointment, but, he supposes, he should have expected this to be the case.

The night is cool against his skin as he releases his horse and begins to trudge towards the city, boots sinking into the mud as he walks. He can hear the lap of waves from the lake and the sounds of frogs and crickets in the distance. If his task wasn't so grim, he might have enjoyed the atmosphere and taken a moment to relax. Alas, he cannot and keeps himself going.

It's going to be a long evening and even longer week.

* * *

Valeria's not one to panic unless she has a good reason for it, and right now, she feels like she really does have a damn good reason for panicking. Sorin's an adult, a very powerful one to boot, but him disappearing feels like a slightly more sinister situation than she had initially assumed it to be. He promised he'd come back as soon as he could, while expressing exasperation, and she had trusted him to follow through with that, but so far there's been so sign of him.

“It might help if you didn't pace a hole through your floor,” Jace suggests from where he's sitting, watching her walk back and forth across her parlor as she's been doing since she concluded that something was wrong. “I'm sure he's fine.”

Valeria shoots him a disbelieving look. “You don't really think that, do you? You know that literally everyone and their mother has a bone to pick with him. Can't you do some poking around and find out where he is?”

Jace sighs. “I know where you're coming from, but we can't just run out there. He might be the main target, but the whole region is unstable. You know better than I do that it's not safe. Just...calm down for now.”

“I can't calm down,” Valeria retorts, running a hand through her hair, causing the curls to become even more unruly. She holds out a hand. It's trembling. “I'm so anxious my hands won't stop shaking. He promised me, Jace. He promised that he'd come back to me.”

'He doesn't love you,' her mind reminds her dryly, its tone reminiscent of a certain someone's. 'He doesn't need to follow through with any promise. Maybe he's gotten those bracelets off and isn't even on the plane anymore.'

Valeria bites her lip hard enough that she tastes blood in her mouth. Her mind's right, of course. She doesn't even know him well enough to proclaim that she loves Sorin, but she can't deny her attraction might run a bit deeper than just the physical. It's been abundantly clear. Despite his personality flaws that infuriate her. She has no idea how he feels about her; he's never said a word of it. He probably just thought she was a silly girl , if his warnings against her falling for him said anything.

Love or not, she's frightened for him.

Jace realizes that anything he's told her isn't going to make her feel any better and he falls quiet, lowering his eyes with a shake of his head.

Valeria's about to begin pacing again when someone knocks on the front door. Jace is immediately on his feet and sends out some mental feelers to check who it is, and then with groan, relaxes.

“Liliana,” he mutters. He looks to Valeria. “Do you mind? I know her.”

Valeria shrugs. “Why not. Is she another Planeswalker?”

“Yes,” Jace answers, already moving towards the door. “Brace yourself.”

At the door stands the most beautiful woman she's ever seen.

“Jace, I heard that you had not left yet. How lucky of me,” Liliana smirks, pushing past him and entering Valeria's home. She looks around curiously and her eyes land on Valeria. Her eyes -a curious shade of purple- scan down her body and back up again. “I honestly expected something more from the woman who ensnared Sorin Markov.”

Valeria feels a twinge of annoyance. Sure, she isn't as impressive as this Liliana is, but that doesn't mean that she's a completely lost cause in the looks department. She straightens up her back and crosses her arms.

“I didn't 'ensnare' anyone,” she grumbles.

“If you say so,” Liliana says in a sing-song voice. She turns her attention from Valeria to Jace, her expression softening around the eyes. “So, why _are_ you still here?”

“Does it matter?” Jace questions, raising an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same thing after the last situation. You're lucky Sorin hasn't seen you yet.”

Liliana frowns and drops herself down into a chair. She examines her nails before she looks back up. “Speaking of. I heard that you lost him. Lucky for you, I'm here to help. I know where he is."

Valeria feels herself move to stand in front of her. “Are you serious?”

“Oh, deadly serious, darling.”

“Can you tell me?” Valeria's heart thumps in her chest. “Please?”

“You aren't going to like it,” Liliana says, crossing her legs. “It's going to be one hell of a task to get to him.”

“Liliana, just tell the girl before she jumps out of her skin,” Jace says, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“Thraben,” Liliana replies, “and not in the best of situations.”

Valeria doesn't need another word of convincing. Without waiting for Jace, she makes her way to the door. “I'm going to go help him.”

“By yourself?” Liliana calls. “Yeah, that's a smart idea.”

“If I have to.” Valeria shrugs. “I never claimed to be the smartest of people. I'm just doing what I need to do.”

“Clearly I'm not going to be able to stop you.” Jace follows behind her. “I'll come with. The least I can do is keep you alive.”

“You don't have to.”

“Yeah, I sort of do.” He shifts uncomfortably. “Sorin would kill me if something happened to you. Again.”

Valeria snorts. “Doubtful, but come on, then. I guess we're going on a trip.”

Liliana stands up and brushes off her gown. “I'll be coming with. Thraben is crawling with Cathars, and Valeria, you've made a reputation in an astonishing amount of time. Just remember this.”

Valeria isn't surprised. What does surprise her is that no one has come to her house to burn it down with how things are progressing lately.

“Fine by me.” She grabs her coat and pulls it on. “Well, come on then. Let's go try and not get ourselves killed.”

* * *

The world is slow to come back into focus and his head is pounding like there's a herd of horses stampeding through it. It takes Sorin a moment to recall what has led him to this and scowls once he does. It had been a trap; the whole damned thing had been a trap. How they had known that he was going to be there he has no clue, only that they had. It was just like before. The only difference is that he hadn't had any access to mana to begin with. His only speck of gladness is that there's several Cathars with their throats ripped out for their trouble. He wasn't about to go down without a fight. Magic isn't his only strength, and even magical bindings can't take away the instinctual abilities he has.

And so, he thinks, they only had one option and that was to hit him with a spell -several, in fact- to knock him unconscious to prevent him from taking more down. He would have done just that and with great pleasure.

Sorin shifted and attempted to regain his bearings, pulling himself unsteadily to his feet with a low groan and a hand pressed to his head. It's obviously a prison cell. The room is drafty and made of stone -floor, walls, and ceiling-. There isn't much in it; no bed and no window, not even a chamberpot. There's a single iron door on one wall with a small closed window meant to be used as way to speak to the prisoners. The only source of light is what comes in from under the door, and there's two thick chains wrapped around his wrists that connect to the wall.

He hears boots scuffing against stone and the jangle of keys, followed by a low scrape and the door swings open. The torchlight that hits his face momentarily blinds him and through squinting eyes he makes out the silhouette of what he presumes to be a Cathar with their distinctive hat. Whomever they are, they're holding something in their hand; a blade of some sort. Sorin braces himself for the violence that he's sure will be aimed towards him. Humans, he's found, feel better having a single target in which to place all their blame, and to them, Sorin is it.

For once, the human male doesn't taunt him and says nothing at all, face impassive. The thing in his hand is a piece of sharpened, living wood, perfect for a stake.

“You are all learning, it appears,” Sorin says to fill the tense silence. He smirks coolly, crossing his arms best he can. “Kill me, if it makes you feel better.”

Blood fills his mouth when the stake strikes him across the jaw, causing him to bite his tongue. He swallows the blood down and reaches up to rub his face. Fantastic, he sighs internally. Serves him right for instigating.

“Killing you would be too easy,” the man says, cruel glimmer in his eye.

Sorin scoffs.

“Of course.”

People are so quick to call him a monster -and yes, maybe there is a degree of truth to their words- when there are humans far worse that take far more joy in tormenting those that they see as lesser, as _evil._

Humans may bring out the best in each other, but also the worst.

* * *

He does his best not to flinch at the crack of the whip and the sensation of it hitting his skin, slicing it open where it strikes near. They had bound him to the Bloodless Wall, a place where hundreds of others of his kind have been left to starve to death or to be tortured first. Sorin's already decided that the human holding the whip will be the first to go once he's free. He's going to wrap it around his neck and strangle him with it. Or maybe that's just the hunger speaking; it has been a while since he's last fed.

The whip comes down again and then another time. It's a half dozen more lashes before they stop, leaving him standing there bleeding and stinging.

He absently wonders just how long he's already been there. Days? Weeks? The one time he'd like to keep track of the passage of time and he can't focus enough to do so.

Yes, he thinks, shifting enough to at least turn himself around so that he's facing forward, he's going to be particularly violent.

Woe betide them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the most difficult parts of writing Sorin is how to handle the time skips when he's someone who doesn't keep track of time.


	9. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not love, she tells herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but I thought where it ended was the best place to stop. It's also very Valeria-centric.

It's a difficult trip to get to Thraben and by no means is it a short one. She knows that for every hour that passes, things will be getting worse for Sorin. She doesn't know his exact situation, and Liliana has been vague about the whole thing. If it isn't for the wary glances Jace keeps sending her, Valeria would assume that the reason for it is Liliana trying not to worry her more. She highly doubts that this is the case.

The Kruin Pass is thankfully lacking in threats when they go through it. The area pass it isn't as safe, and they're forced to take care of a small amount of vampires looking to pick a fight with them, specifically targeting Valeria. Jace and Liliana are quick to take care of it; their magic is made more for combat than her clerical sort, even Jace's illusions are more effective.

She watches as Jace uses his illusions to confuse the creatures and lead them straight to Liliana's specters, which make quick work of them. The two Planeswalkers work well together as a team and Valeria feels woefully outmatched when it comes to talent. Sure, she can heal wounds and do minor protection spells, but she's by no means a prodigy or anything more useful than any common mage.

“Not hurt, are you? Jace asks once the fight has ended in their favor. There's not a scratch on either him or Liliana.

“I'm fine,” Valeria responds and wishes that she could do anything at all.

* * *

They make it to Thraben in record-breaking time.

It does help that none of them really sleep during the trip, and Liliana's spirits keep an eye out when they need it. Valeria's trust in her doesn't grow overly much, but she's forced to admit it's far better to have her on their side than against them. Maybe it's the nature of her magic that puts Valeria on edge. They're complete opposites, after all. Necromancy doesn't sit well with her, and it's always done more harm than good in her experience. However, Jace seems to trust the dark woman well enough, and Valeria has learned to trust him within the short amount of time she's known him. Sorin vouched for him.

She sits by their little camp and stares out at the city. It had once been walled, she remembers. That changed when Innistrad had fallen into chaos with Avacyn's disappearance. Those that live there have since attempted to be rebuild them after the incident, but it they haven't been fully recovered. She'd been there once with her parents, when they'd decided that their daughter should have the chance to see the seat of the church.

“You'll live here one day,” her mother had told her gently as they walked down the streets that were quite different from their little villages in Stensia. “You'll become a wonderful cleric.”

She'd been in a state of wonderment, feeling so secure there with the power of Avacyn buzzing in her veins.

“You're awfully quiet,” Jace says, coming up to sit beside her and pulling her out of her memory. “You know how strong he is, I'm sure he's going to be fine.”

“We don't know that for certain. Maybe when he'd been at full power he would have been,” Valeria murmurs, resting her chin on her knees. She wants to keep going. They're so close. She can see the city in the distance.

“Even without the use of magic, he's stronger than pretty much everyone in there. He's a vampire, you should probably remember.”

It's meant to be a comfort, but it only makes her feel more hollow.

She laughs bitterly. “Oh, you don't have to worry there. I don't think he'd let me forget it even if I wanted to. Him being a vampire is what's gotten him into this mess.”

“Sorry,” Jace apologized.

“It's fine. I do wonder what I've gotten myself into.” She sighs and plucks a blade of grass, twirling it in between her fingers. “It is what it is.”

Jace gives her a curious look and his eyes gleam slightly in a way that make her wonder if he's going to attempt to read her thoughts. “How much do you even know about him?”

“He's told me a little. The rest I heard through rumors, and I couldn't tell you if there's much truth to them.” She tears the little green blade in two and drops the pieces. Wind carries them off. “I just know that he doesn't have a happy story, what with what happened to his lover.”

“Oh, that,” Jace replies. “I know about that one. Not sure he'll like me knowing. I didn't exactly...ask.”

Valeria's eyes shift to Jace. “What do you mean?”

“I may have accidentally gotten a peak of that area of his mind.” Jace has the right idea to look ashamed of the admittance. “I don't always trust him. He keeps his thoughts and motives to himself. I guess paranoia comes with age when you've lived as long as he has. Anyway, I tried to read him at one point after I first met him.” He laughs a little. It's a small, nervous laugh, as if he's picturing all the possible ways he'd be murdered by Sorin. “He's not a telepath, but he's got his own mental talents, and keeps a wall up. Well, that wall broke enough that I got a glimpse. Just a little one. Just a mental image and a name. Elizabeth.”

“Yeah, that's her.” Valeria recalls, having met the woman in the flesh.

“She's partially why he's a vampire. You know that Edgar Markov, Sorin's grandfather, is the main reason, but from what I saw, her death helped fuel the spell that made the vampires of this plane.” Jace stops and side-eyes her. “I probably shouldn't say any more.”

“He used her as a cautionary tale and said that I shouldn't fall in love with him.” His words still sting. “I wondered exactly why that was.”

“And do you love him?”

Isn't that the question of the bloody century?

“No, not love.” She shakes her head, frowning, trying to form the right words. “That's a bit too strong a word for it. I care about him. Sometimes I wonder why. His words are cruel when he wants them to be, and by all rights with what he is I should be terrified by him.”

“But you aren't.”

“I'm not. Wary, yes, but scared, no. Mostly I want to know what he's like beneath this supposedly heartless mask. The little glimpses I get sometimes just make me more curious.” Valeria laughs again. “Ah, I really am naive. Twenty-years old and I haven't grown up at all.”

“There's nothing wrong with wanting to see the good in someone.” Is it just her, or does Jace look at Liliana when he says that? “I can't blame you for wanting to know more about him. I think he does care about you in his own strange way. He tries to push you away for your own protection, or so he thinks.”

“What about you and Liliana? It's obvious that you two have some history.” Jace has gotten her curiosity.

Jace clears his throat. “Well, that's a bit complicated. We were together for a little bit in the past, but things turned sour, and Liliana has her own way of doing things. I don't always agree with them, but I like to think that she has the potential to be a decent person. I've seen some of it.”

“It's hard for me to trust her.”

“Me, too.”

Just over the horizon, they can see the sun trying to shine through the typical Innistradi clouds.

“Come on,” Jace says, “Let's get Liliana and start moving.”

“Agreed.”

* * *

The city is uncharacteristically silent; no one on the streets, no movement in houses, nothing. That's the first thing Valeria notices. The few that do pass them as they walk skitter past them quickly, not making any eye contact. There's something odd going on, Valeria concludes. She doesn't realize how odd it is until they've circled around again outside by the walls, more notably a particular wall.

The Bloodless Wall had made her uncomfortable when she'd first seen it and now is no different. Sure, she doesn't have a love for most vampires -certainly not after the experiences she's had- but the idea of leaving the creatures chained to the wall left to die a slow and painful death by starvation feels cruel, even for them. Isn't it better to give them a quick, merciful death even if they wouldn't grant her the same? She's probably the only person in that world that thinks that way. Certainly isn't the first time.

“I don't like this,” Jace murmurs, not speaking of the wall, but the unsettling silence. He walks beside her, his expression shadowed by his hood. “Everyone is spooked.”

Valeria looks up at him. “Any reason why that you can read? Or is it just because of the...situation.”

“Mostly it seems to be just because of how dangerous the land has become. It isn't just the darkness fighting against humans, but humans against humans. That's gotten everyone rightfully scared,” Jace answers. “No one wants to get caught in the crossfire.”

That's a good enough reason. These poor people never asked for this.

“Is there any sign of Sorin?” There isn't anything she can do about the skittish humans that dart into their homes, sending them suspicious glances.

“Yes,” Liliana replies, sauntering up to them, coming up out of nowhere after scouting the area. Beside her, is a spirit, bent to her magic. “We're getting closer.”

They follow the wall and the spirit further down, passing a few more people that slink by quickly, putting space between them. The longer it takes, the more Valeria starts to wonder if they're being led on a wild goose chase. It doesn't seem like that they're getting any closer to finding hi-

As soon as the thoughts leave her, she stops dead in her tracks, the other two following suit as they see what she does.

It's hard to tell if he's still alive from where they stand, but there he is, chained to the wall. The only thing keeping him upright are the thick chains manacled around his wrists as he slumps forward, hair obscuring most of his face. He's been stripped of everything above his waist, leaving him with just his trousers and boots. His skin is pale and ghastly looking even for his normal color, coated in places by blood, some old and some still fresh looking. He's been there for some time, days even, and Valeria knows well enough how short a time it takes for a vampire to starve.

Somewhere in the background she can hear Jace shout a warning to her, but it's fuzzy to her ears, as all her focus is singular in it's direction as she runs towards Sorin.

Out of breath, she comes to a staggering stop in front of him. He doesn't look much better up close, and with a shaking hand she reaches up and traces a finger over his cold cheek. His skin beneath it is dry as a bone with the effects dehydration. She can't even check if he's breathing since even when he's conscious he gives no breath unless he does so intentionally.

“Valeria,” Jace's voice filters through her daze, “he's still alive.”

“Is he?” Her own voice sounds odd to her ears. “Are you certain?”

“Yes, just unconscious.”

“He's right.” Liliana joins them, taking in the unpleasant sight with feigned indifference. “There's still life in him. If there wasn't, I'd know.”

So says the death mage, Valeria thinks as she reluctantly lowers her hand. She hopes that they're right. She presses it to his chest and feels the light, thready beat of his heart.

“Can you take him down?” she asks. She takes a step back to give Jace and Liliana room to do so. “I can't stand to see him like this.”

Jace answers by summoning a small creature that Valeria can't identify. Without having to be told, it flits up to the chains and in a few short seconds, unlocks them and disappears. Without the chains to hold him up, Sorin falls forward and Jace has to be quick to awkwardly catch him. On his back, she can see various deep lacerations etched into his skin.

Valeria sits down on the ground, legs folded, so that Jace can lower Sorin and cushion his head on her lap. It's better than for it to be there than on the dirt.

“Come on,” Valeria whispers, brushing his hair out of his eyes, “wake up. You made a promise to me and I expect you to keep it.”

“Why am I not surprised that even on my death bed you'd be here to hold that over me.”

She didn't expect to actually get a response.

“Oh, thank Avacyn,” Valeria breathes in astonishment. She could kiss him then and there, the bastard. “You gave me a hell of a scare.”

Sorin chuckles and it dissolves into a cough.

“You shouldn't be here,” he says once the coughing subsides. He hasn't tried to sit up or even move yet.

“Would you have rather I just let you die?” She can't believe they're having this conversation now.

Sorin sighs brittlely. “...I never said that.”

“We can all argue this later, I'd rather not be here when the Cathars decide to pay a visit,” Liliana says with a roll of her eyes.

“Liliana Vess,” Sorin's gaze is sharp as daggers, “I couldn't move if I wanted to.”

Valeria blinks. “You two know each other?”

“We've had the _pleasure_ of crossing paths once or twice,” Liliana shrugs, unaffected by Sorin's stare. “I'm a frequenter of this plane. And, again, I say that we can argue later.”

“Unless you would care to donate blood, I'm not going to be moving anywhere.” Sorin proves this point when he tries to sit up with a pained grimace and his arms give up weakly. “I haven't had any in days so I'm afraid that I'm at my limit.”

“He's right,” Jace chimes in, looking around them for any signs of life. “A day or two more he wouldn't be here. He's gone too long without feeding.”

“And he's right here,” Sorin rasps shortly, “and can speak up for himself.”

“Then, here,” Valeria pulls up the sleeve on her blouse, “drink.”

“I'm not drinking from you.” Sorin shoves her arm away from him. It doesn't do much good.

Valeria glares. “Well, I didn't come all the way here for you die now.”

“I didn't ask you to come. In fact, I told you to stay home.”

“You were gone for days! I didn't know if you were dead or alive!” Valeria's voice is rising in volume. “And what if you had died, hm? I wouldn't have ever known.”

“Valeria...” Sorin starts with a frown and is starting to look uncomfortable.

“No, don't say anything. I'm not going to hear it.”

“You know what, we'll discuss this later,” he relents. He takes her arm and stares at the thin blue veins running up her wrist, and adds, “I'm not going to bite you.”

“I'm not saying that you need to bite me, just drink from me. Just enough to get some strength back.” She pulls a small knife from under her corset and makes a small incision across the top of her arm, just enough that it bleeds. “Just a little.”

Vampires need far more than what she can give him, and after going so long he'll need more than one person to feed from, but it's be better than having none at all. Judging by the way Sorin's eyes hyper-focus on the blood, he knows that as well.

“Just a little,” he repeats dazedly, lifting her arm to his lips.

He holds true and only sucks at the blood that raises from the cut, keeping his fangs to himself, although by the way he trembles, it's taking a considerable amount of his self-control not to bite her. Valeria strokes his hair as her eyes grow heavy from what blood she loses and she forgets for a moment that they have an audience. It's only after he lets go of her with a gasp does she remember and blush.

“How do you feel?” she asks.

“Better,” Sorin says. He sits up and shifts to look at her. He looks more alive after having fed, even just the small amount that he's had has made a difference. “Thank-you.”

Valeria smiles shyly. “You're welcome.”

It takes some effort, but Sorin manages to stand up, still not up to full strength. He looks down at his attire, or rather the lack-thereof. “I need my things.”

“Can't you do without them?” Liliana huffs.

“No, I can't,” Sorin says flatly, bracing a hand on the wall with a grimace. “Besides, I need more blood and I have an intended target.”

Valeria doesn't want to think about it too much, nor does she envy the target in question. A part of her wants to talk Sorin out of shedding more blood, but curiously there's another part of her that relishes the idea of Sorin ripping apart those who've hurt him. And she want to help him. It's this part of her that doesn't protest when he begins his staggering walk in a determined direction, cold fury masking any pain he might have been feeling.

This isn't going to be pretty, and Valeria notices that neither Jace or Liliana are brave enough to attempt to dissuade him on his mission.


	10. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hell hath no fury like a vampire scorned.

It's a sight to behold, Valeria thinks grimly. She should turn her eyes away from it, but she can't.

It hadn't take very long  for her to heal Sorin and to locate his belongings, which are being held by a small group of cathars, including, she would later learn, the one who'd done the damage to his back. They'd been sitting around actually discussing how they'd caught the 'vampire prince' and how they bet that he would be dead by the next day. Valeria would have taken them on herself at the insult, but Sorin had done so first.

They never stood a chance. The first one is dead before he hits the floor as Sorin yanks him from his chair and latches his teeth into the man's throat, ripping it out and draining him dry. He drops the body and goes for the next in a flurry of black and pale gray. The second man is left in much the same manner as the first, but with considerably more broken limbs when he tries to go for his weapon only for Sorin to grab his arm and snap it hard enough that pale bone stained with gore juts through torn skin. He tries again with his other arm and that one goes as well. His cries of agony are abruptly cut off when his trachea is forcefully removed.

The others make a run for it, understandably scared for their life. It's unfortunate, then, that Sorin won't have it and cuts their path off with his returned sword drawn and a bloodthirsty smirk.

“This is horrible,” Jace remarks, also watching the horror show taking place. He doesn't try to stop it despite his dismay, clearly realizing that getting in the way between a vengeful vampire and its prey is one that will lead to his equally unpleasant end. His eyes flicker down to Valeria's face. “You really shouldn't be watching this.”

She hasn't taken her gaze off the scene. “I'll get used to it.”

“But, you shouldn't have to,” Jace points out, grimacing when Sorin's blade finds itself tearing through the entrails of a man who tried to block it, the remains spilling out onto the floor through the man's eviscerated abdomen. “I know that you have feelings for him, but this might be too much. You can care about him without tolerating this sort of...massacre.”

Yes, maybe that's true. She's seen Sorin feed before, but nothing like the carnage he's inflicting. She should be running away, screaming, not watching it happen with a sense of disassociation that better befits someone like Liliana, not her. Valeria can already hear what the people of her village would say. There probably is something wrong with her; she was ruined the day Sorin entered her life.

Finally, the deaths end and Sorin walks towards them, frowning at the blood that has splattered onto his clothes and skin, he doesn't pay heed to the blood that surrounds his thin mouth. His tongue darts out to lick at his lips. She should not find it that pleasing.

“Feel better?” she asks while he attempts to wipe himself down with a scrap of cloth he took from one of the now-dead Cathars. He looks like himself again and completely sated.

“More or less,” he replies. He glances at her wrist. “How's your arm?”

She waves it. “Fine. I healed it on the way.”

A genuine smile. “Good.”

They are still staring at each other when Liliana clears her throat for their attention. “Now that you've gotten your revenge out of your way, could we go back?”

“You two go. We'll meet you there,” Sorin said. His hand brushes Valeria's. “I think we need to talk.”

Liliana and Jace share a look. And Jace gives a sort of half-shrug. “If you want.”

Liliana doesn't have to be told twice and disappears presumably to Valeria's home.  Jace hesitates a moment longer. “You both be careful out there.”

“We will.”

Once Jace is gone, she's left standing with just Sorin. Tension she didn't know was there grows. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“I will be in a moment.” Sorin, in his own sort of gallows humor, kicks a body off a chair and drops into it.

Valeria locks the door to the room, hoping that no one else will show up to cause more problems. She feels emotionally drained and is half-tempted to find a seat for herself as well. She watches Sorin clean off his sword, running his fingers lightly across the flat side of the blade.

“Did you get enough?”

Sorin's eyes lift and his mouth quirks with amusement. “Yes, Valeria.”

“I'm sorry, I'm just...” Valeria makes a tired waving motion with her arms before they flop back to her sides. “Anxious.”

“I couldn't tell,” Sorin says dryly. He sits his sword down on the table beside him and leans forward to rest his arms on the tops of his knees. “I wanted to say thank-you, for helping me. It appears that I'm in your debt once more.”

“There's no need for it to be a debt. I did it just because I care. Isn't that enough?” Why does he care whether or not there's some sort of debt between the two of them? “Why are you being so paranoid about it?”

Sorin lets out an unnecessary breath and stands up again, his rest short-lived. “A topic for another time, I suppose.”

That's something Valeria can agree with. She's physically and emotionally exhausted and the idea of arguing with him again drains what little energy she has left in her system. It bothers her that half their conversations involve some sort of argument cropping up because one or both of them decide to be stubborn. There's no denying that they're both stubborn to a fault, stuck in their own ways; Sorin from years upon years of a long life of doing things of his own accord, and Valeria from being told the same things over and over again and deciding that she would hear no more of it and that the only opinion that really matters is her own.

Valeria watches as he pulls on his shirt and begins to don his armor with the skill honed from doing it hundreds of times before. It never fails to impress her.

“There,” he says, straightening his coat collar, “we can go.”

Luck must be on their side as they leave Thraben. No more Cathars appear before they're out of the city, and Valeria sends a silent prayer to Avacyn, thanking her for it. She doesn't think she would have been able to handle another high stress encounter after the last. It's bad enough that Sorin smells slightly of drying blood as he walks beside her, reminding her of it. There'll be no easy way of getting the smell out of his clothes.

As they walk, they witness flights of angels swooping through the night sky on their feathered wings. A part of her envies their ability to fly. It must be amazing to have such a freedom. The more logical part of her wonders why they remain when the state of Innistrad is unraveling around them. Is there anyone praying anymore, now that the truth of Avacyn came out?

“Why did you create Avacyn? I already know, but I want to hear it for myself in your own words.”

Sorin stops walking at the question, and for a moment Valeria thinks she must insulted him in some manner before Sorin sighs. He does that a lot, mostly at her words.

“I created her because my kin don't know moderation,” he begins. “They drink and drink and drink without any forethought on how many humans they kill and how it effects the populations. They don't realize that to kill off the humans would lead to the killing of themselves in kind, once they were finished cannibalizing each other,” There's frustration in his voice. “If it wasn't them killing humans, it was the wolves and the wandering and restless dead.”

Valeria has seen ghouls and the geists and shivered at the memory. To become one of them is one of her worsts fears, as much as it is for anyone else here.

Sorin continues. “It took me years to find a way to help keep the balance, years away from Innistrad, and all the while vampires killed. Avacyn is the way to keep the balance, but not tip it in any one race's favor. Vampires can still feed, but on a much smaller scale, and humans can sleep more safely at night knowing that their guardian angel keeps watch over them.”

Valeria is puzzled and scratches at her hair, dislodging some strands. “I don't understand why you're so hated by humans when you helped us. We're in a much better spot than we would be if you hadn't created Avacyn. We'd probably all be dead by now. We should be grateful. I'm grateful.”

Sorin's smile reappears, faintly, starts to walk again. “That's because I'm a vampire and one vampire is much like any other in the eyes of humans. I'm sure Beleren warned you about me. He trusts me more than most, but that's not to say that he trusts me completely. Even those I call friends barely do.”

“I trust you.”

“You really shouldn't.”

“And you really need to stop trying to push me away. It's obviously not going to work.” Valeria struggles to keep up with his pace. She has a feeling he's walking fast on purpose.

“Clearly.” He pauses for a moment.“I know that Beleren was in my head.”

Well, that's a sudden change of topic. Valeria ties not to look over at him and instead focuses on not tripping on the shrubs that dot the landscape. “He was just checking on you.”

“I'm aware. I'm just surprised that he didn't tell you anything.”

“He thought it wasn't appropriate,” Valeria admits, kicking a stone with her boot. “I didn't ask for him to elaborate”

Sorin nods slightly. “I suppose I should thank him for it.”

“I'm not sure that he expects you to.”

“No, I suppose not.”

The ride is a long one and by the time they reach Hanweir Keep in the wee hours of the early morning, Valeria's is so tired that she barely manages to stay on her horse. At some point or another, Sorin stops their horses and puts her in front of him. She mumbles protests, but relaxes into his arms all the same until she falls asleep. When she eventually awakes, they're near the Kruin Pass, resting under trees. They've walked ridden night, and judging by what was visible of the sun, it's almost noon.

She knows that she looks like a mess as she pushes her hair out of her eyes and sits up, but that doesn't seem all that important when she sees Sorin dozing, leaning against a tree trunk with his arms crossed and one leg drawn up. It never fails to surprise her to see him sleep. She forgets sometimes that even with the stamina he possesses, sleep is something even vampires need from time to time.

With a mischievous grin, Valeria crawls towards him as closely as she dares. No nightmares this time, no frown on his face; just the relaxed expression of a person deep in sleep. He really does seem to need it after his ordeal. Tethered to a wall, he had likely gotten little to no sleep. 

“Yes?” Sorin murmurs, cracking open an eye to fix it on Valeria.

She freezes and forces herself to keep her smile. “I was just taking in the view. I never get used to seeing you sleep.”

“Yes, well, even I need sleep,” he says, nearly quoting her thoughts on it. He shifts, stretching his arms with a wince.

“I'm sorry that you had to ride with me. I could have kept on it alright on my own.” She doesn't know who she' trying to convince; herself or Sorin.

“You were slowing us down,” Sorin says in a matter-of-fact tone that leaves no room for debate. It would sound harsh if Valeria didn't know by now how to translate his words. “Besides, you were going to get hurt going on like that.”

“I'm still sorry. You shouldn't have had to.”

 “No, but I did.” Sorin' slow to stand up, taking his time with the effort.

"Are you alright?” Valeria asks when she notices it. He's mostly recovered, but it'll take more time for him to be completely himself again. “We can wait a bit long before we leave.”

“We can go now,” Sorin retorts, with half-hearted irritation. “I'll be fine until we get back.”

Valeria doesn't argue. She shrugs. “Fine,” she says, “we'll go.”

* * *

They stop in a village on their way, and Valeria buys food with her meager funds when she remembers that she hasn't had anything to eat since the day before. Sorin keeps to the outside of the pub, keeping a watchful eye out for any threats but also staying enough out of view that no one will see him. Without a way to hide himself with magic, it's a far better choice than letting everyone know there's a vampire around.

“Anything?” Valeria asks as she rejoins him after she's eaten quickly.

“Nothing, thankfully.”

It's another half a day before they reach Stensia and Valeria's home at the pace they're moving at. There they find Jace. Liliana, apparently, left earlier for her own reasons.

“She didn't say,” Jace replies when Valeria asks.

“Wonderful,” Valeria huffs in annoyance, sitting down in a chair. Actual furniture and not the cold hard ground or the back of a horse. She's going to enjoy sleeping in her own bed tonight.

“She does that.” Jace studies them, but Valeria doesn't feel him poke around in her head. “How did the trip go?”

“Well enough that we didn't run into anyone, if that's what you mean,” Valeria answers. She can really use more sleep. “And if you ask me, I'm happy for it.” She lets out a loud yawn and stretches. “Well, gentlemen, if you don't need me, I'm going to bed early.”

“Go ahead,” Sorin replies.

She tiredly goes upstairs, strips out of her travel clothes, and promptly collapses onto her bed with a relieved sigh. She's never leaving it again. She twists onto her back and stares at her ceiling. What a stressful week. At least Sorin appears to be no worse for wear in the end, and that's enough to make her feel better.

She doesn't remember falling asleep.

* * *

“You need to be honest with her eventually, you know,” Jace says once Valeria is well out of ear shot. “She's going to find out one way or another.”

Sorin closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I'm aware, but I can't tell her.”

“Why? Because you're worried you'll put her in danger? She's been in danger this entire time and seems to be fending well enough for herself.”

Sorin's eyes snap open and he glares across the room at Jace. “Thank-you for your insightful input. While you're at it, perhaps you can tell me why Liliana Vess of all people came with you.”

“She knew where you were.” Jace pointedly looks away like a guilty child.

“Have you not wondered why she knew? Have you maybe considered the idea that she's the one who got me into that position in the first place?”

“She didn't,” Jace's voice has a hint of denial. Is he really so oblivious to his former lover's actives?

“The only reason I didn't snap her pretty little neck is because of your relationship with her. I didn't think that you would take it very well.” Sorin doesn't take into consideration his own relationship with the necromancer. It was in the past and doesn't matter now, in the present, as far as he's concerned. “If she tries anything again, I can't promise that I won't.”

“I understand,” Jace mutters. “Why did she do it? If she did, that is.”

Sorin leans back. “Where would you care for me to start? I've known her longer than you have. You should know by now that she has her own agenda. ”

By the look on Jace's face, he's considering the same thing.

 “And you're changing the subject,” Jace points out. “This isn't about me. It's about how Valeria has feelings for you and you just keep pushing her away, pretending that you don't have a heart. Which, mind you, you do a pretty damn good job making people think that.”

"What am I supposed to do?” Sorin all but snarls, jumping to his feet to tower over Jace. “Even if I do tell her, that does not change the fact that she's still a human. She'll die. If not by my own hands or the hands of another, it will be from old age.”

Jace's expression softens as he puts two and two together, not perturbed by having a vampire looming over him, blocking his view like a leather-clad wall. “You're scared that you'll kill her, and you don't want to change her because you can't guarantee that she'll be the same girl.”

Backed into an emotional corner, Sorin scrambles to explain himself. It falls flatter than he likes, even to his own ears. “I've converted others; I don't care most of the time as long as they have their uses. But Valeria is the most human a girl I've ever met. Empathic, but has a spine. That's more than I can say for most of her kind.”

“Sorin, have you ever considered the reason why you care for her, specifically her, is because you never take the time to actually get to know anyone until you're forced to spend time with them? You're barely even on your own home plane, with your own people, and just count on an angel to hopefully clean up any messes.”

“If you don't stay out of my head, mind mage, I'm throwing you into the fire.”

Still, he can't deny that there's truth to Beleren's words. That's the crux of the matter.

“Seriously, talk to her. Take it from me; lack of communication never helped anyone in the long run."

Sorin let's out a sigh equal parts frustrated and tired. This whole thing is going to be the death of him.

 


	11. XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[Flops over]_
> 
> Oh boy was this chapter a hassle for a number of reasons. First being that there's not a lot of action and it's primarily dialogue/introspection, the second is that while I was in the middle of the chapter I had a really bad anxiety/depression episode which brought my life to a grinding halt for the better part of a week and was triggered by some stuff in the MtG fandom, so that was fun.
> 
> Thankfully, it seems like the depression is down for now and most the anxiety is at a level I can deal with without immediately freaking out. 
> 
> Additionally, we're approaching the finish line for this particular installment for the Memento Mori verse. I have it marked at thirteen chapters (it keeps changing), but it may end up being fourteen depending on if the main plot can be wrapped up by next chapter, leaving chapter thirteen to be the epilogue. I guess we'll see. I never really know until I get there _[finger guns]_.

The next few days were relatively uneventful overall. No one tries to come take Valeria again, no visits from Liliana, not even any arguments between the three inhabitants of one small two story house that occupies a small village in the Stensia region.

 _It's the calm before the next storm_ , Valeria muses. It's only a matter of time before something happens and all of the chaos breaks out again.

Sorin mostly keeps to himself, becoming even more withdrawn from both herself and Jace. Valeria wants to speak with him and try to learn what he's thinking, but every time she approaches him, Sorin immediately finds some excuse to leave the room. Is it something she's done to offend him? She understands that he's been through a lot -she herself keeps having nightmares- and that it's perfectly understandable for him to want to avoid people for a while, but is it healthy?

To be honest, however, they've all been keeping to themselves, not just Sorin.

Valeria stands outside his bedroom. The door is shut and she lifts a fist to knock on it just in time for it to swing inwards. Her first instinct is to apologize and leave him be, but he looks so miserable that she can't in good conscious at least ask if there's anything she can do to help. Likely not. He'll do his usual evasiveness and wave off all of her concerns as if he hadn't spent days chained to a wall, starving.

“Valeria,” he begins, staring down at her. The look on his face is soft, but conflicted.

“You're going to leave,” Valeria says and watches guilt wash over him. She's not surprised. It was only a matter of time before he came to her, letting her know that his vengeance had not yet been satisfied. She inhales slowly and releases it. “Very well. If that is what you want to do. I can't very well stop you.”

“Please, let me continue,” Sorin replies, voice even. He moves aside and allows Valeria to walk into the room with him. “Yes, I am leaving. I don't believe Edgar will be expecting me back this quickly and I need to take advantage of it before he's figured it out. Well, that is if Beleren's lover doesn't get there first.”

Valeria takes a seat on the bed, curling her legs beneath her. “I imagine so.”

“What I wish to ask is, will you come with me?”

“Why are you asking me, when you've made it perfectly clear that you don't wish for me to be involved?” It doesn't make any sense. One moment he's being sweet and charming and the next he's putting emotional space between them. And now he wants her to come with him when he tries again to kill his grandfather.

Sorin sits beside her and stares forward at the floor. “Because I've learned the hard way that in my...current...condition, I'm not as useful as I wish I could be. I need someone I can trust to accompany me with this task. I'm not requesting that you assist me with killing the man; I just want to you watch my back.”

“Can't say that I expected to hear that...” Valeria murmurs. She glances over at Sorin's profile and notes the tautness around his mouth. “Not to say that I don't appreciate your asking and that I'm going to say no. I gladly accept your offer. I'm just surprised that you would.”

Sorin smiles faintly and turns to actually look at her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Good. Admittedly, I had no intention on asking you along initially, but it appears that the powers that be have decided otherwise after all of the mess that's gone on these last three weeks.” The smile fades from his lips. “I just hope that I won't regret it. It's going to be quite dangerous, as I'm sure you know. I want you to hide yourself as much as possible and stay out of sight.”

“I believe that will be possible.” She understands why, at least. He knows that her capabilities are limited when it comes to direct threats. Give her time to erect barrier and protection spells and it'll go much better. “Why did you intend on leaving exactly?”

“In another day or so, I think. I need to lay low and mend a bit longer, as much as I would rather leave now than wait.”

That doesn't surprise Valeria.

“What about Jace? How come you didn't invite him along as well?” That's something she'd like to know. Jace is powerful and brilliant from what she's seen of him at work. Why not bring someone like him instead?

“What makes you think that I didn't?” he asked. “He will be there to waylay Liliana should she be there.”

She's quiet for a moment, considering.

“Sorin?”

“Yes?”

“I'm glad that you're actually asking for us to help you instead of trying to do this by yourself.”

Sorin chuckles. “Yes, I suppose you would be. I've learned my lesson. However, “he says more seriously, “I'll be the one that kills Edgar.”

“I wouldn't dare take that away from you.” Maybe once she'd try and persuade him that killing his grandfather wouldn't be the answer, but now? Now she'd sleep better at night if he did. “Just...be careful? Please? I know I keep saying that, but I worry.”

“I know that you do.” Sorin takes her hand and presses his lips to her knuckles. “I will do everything within my power to be as safe as possible and not fail you.”

Valeria's cheeks go warm. “You better.”

She hopes that he can keep his word.

* * *

At the very least he intends on keeping it, but he's learned that sometimes it's harder to do than he would want it to be.

Valeria leaves after their conversation and he's left alone with his thoughts, something that is dangerous for him these days. They inevitably lead back to everything that has happened and to the young woman he has grown close to during his stay in her home. Beleren had a fair point about being honest with her and that is partly why he asked her to come with him.

He never did tell her how Elizabeth died and a part of himself had hoped that he would not need to. Valeria has been trusting, almost to a fault. He would rather not lose her trust if he can help it. However, would he be going against her trust by _not_ telling her? He has no idea. All he's managing to do is form a headache. How did it come to this? He had been so convinced that he would not become attached to this tiny female mortal and that her only use beyond healing him was to be a potential feed. Somewhere down the line that had changed. When that was, he's not sure, but he is not entirely upset by it.

He speaks with Jace again later on that day, when the shadows cast by the hawthorn trees have stretched long.

“You're going to tell her?” Jace asks, surprise coloring his voice and eyebrows raising. “Finally?”

“Yes, finally,” Sorin mutters, crossing his arms and sending a look in the direction Valeria's just walked towards, out of earshot. “Why is this such a surprise?”

“Well, the last time I brought it up you threatened to toss me into the fireplace. It didn't seem like you were going to be budging any time soon. And being on fire doesn't sound very appealing, to be honest,” Jace says dryly with a wry smile.

Sorin lets out a contained snort of laughter. “Indeed.”

“Seriously though, I think she'll take it a lot better than you think. I doubt she'll feel any differently about you. It's not as if you're the one that held the blade.”

Sorin winces as the memory of Elizabeth's blood flowing from her slit throat comes into his head before he can keep it at bay. “I hope that your assessment is correct on this one. I know that it's terribly selfish, but I would hate for her to hate me for it.”

“Hate you for what?”

Sorin swears under his breath when Valeria's slender form appears from the other room. “Valeria, how much did you hear?”

“Enough,” she sighs. “Whatever it is you need to say, say it.”

Sorin glances at Jace. “Do you mind?”

Jace nods and stands up. “If either of you need me I'll be...somewhere. Somewhere else.”

Once gone, Sorin focuses on Valera reluctantly. “Where do you want me to start?”

“How about from the beginning. That usually works.” Valeria takes the seat where Jace had been and folds her hands on her lap, waiting patiently for Sorin work himself up to the tale. “Whenever you're ready.”

It's best, Sorin thinks, to get directly to the point.

“You are aware that Elizabeth died, but what I never mentioned was that she had been killed, by Edgar -by my own grandfather- in front of me, and her blood used with that of an angel's in the ritual that made my kind. There was nothing I could do about it. Not a damn thing.”

“Oh, Sorin,” is Valeria's sympathetic response, leaning in towards him. “I'm so sorry.”

He's not certain how to react to her apologies, but a small part of him warms at it. He continues. “I'd like to believe that if I had not been so oblivious to the signs that I might have prevented it from happening. I couldn't protect her and if it hadn't been for me she wouldn't have been killed at all. Now, she's been brought back, barely a shell of who she used to be. Bitter and broken from an unhappy death, centuries of unrest, and dragged back to the land of the living against her will. I'm the cause of her curse.”

“I'm not her, you know, Valeria says after he's gone silent, his laments out in the open to be passed judgment upon. “What happened to Elizabeth is a tragedy, I won't deny that, and I do not doubt that she did not deserve what was done to her-”

Sorin makes to respond, but Valeria hold a delicate hand and the words halt in mouth before they can even form on his tongue.

“However, by now I know what to expect by my association with you. I've been attacked at thirteen, barely more than a child, and then kidnapped and made a mockery of royalty by a bloodline of vampires that either want me dead or to change me to get back at you at my current age of twenty. Not to mention I've witnessed you tear your way through Cathars and Inquisitors like they were nothing more than mere parchment, which I also doubt made you any friends within the church you created,” she continues with a firmness that's unexpected for how softly she's usually addressing him.

“You should never have been brought into this, either,” Sorin mutters.

Valeria stands up abruptly and walks to over to stand in front of him, hands on hips. She snorts loudly. “Sorin Markov, if you say that one more time, I swear to all the forces that dictate this world, that I _will_ smack you, and then maybe, just maybe that will cause you to stop.”

“I very much doubt that.”

“Oh, so do I, but I figure that it may be worth the effort.” Valeria relaxes her arms at her side “I'm serious. I'm not that poor woman. Our circumstances are different. She never chose. I did. What happens to me is made by my own decisions. I feel no regret.”

 _You might_ , he thinks.

* * *

Valeria sighs and shifts in her saddle, sending Sorin a sideways glance as he rides beside her, looking straight ahead and obviously lost in his own head.

She still can't believe that he actually asked her to come along, especially after their conversation earlier. It would not have been entirely unexpected if he'd looked her in her room and boarded up her windows to keep her there. This change of mind can safely be added to the ever growing list of things that's surprised her about Sorin. He personally asked her to come with him to confront his grandfather for the second time that will hopefully reap more success than the first. She's equal parts worried and flattered. He trusts her to have his back and she will, as much as she can. She just can't shake the feeling that they are not going to come out of this wholly unaffected.

What Valeria doesn't quite understand is why Sorin thought that she would think any differently of him for the nature of Elizabeth's mortal death. He was involved, but he did not personally kill her. It was just as much against his will as it had been for the woman's. In fact, he died that day as well. Or rather, his human self died. And yet, he still holds himself responsible for the event.

She won't pretend that he's an entirely innocent person. She knows better. She witnesses this dark side of him every time she closes her eyes, watching those men being murdered in front of her by an utterly wrathful creature lost to its need for vengeance and the bloodlust. Valeria knows that he's equally capable of great good as he is great evil, and she's willing to flip a coin to see which side comes out on top more often.

“What is going on in that head of yours?” she asks him, coloring her voice with a little bit of humor to lighten the mood. “I can tell.”

“Nothing important,” he replies, not looking at her.

Valeria rolls her eyes. “Oh please. What is it?”

“I'm not certain that this will work,” Sorin finally answers truthfully, gripping the reins of his horse hard. “I keep telling myself that it will. I cannot afford to fail. If I do, there is no telling what will happen to this plane. Avacyn will do what she can to help stem the tide, but she cannot do everything. Edgar will kill me should I not manage to kill him first.”

Sorin's hesitation is disconcerting after the confidence he exuded these weeks, even without the use of his magic. Valeria realizes that it may be up to her to keep him certain about his actions. She hadn't condoned his need for revenge against his family, but things have changed, including the knowledge that Edgar had killed Elizabeth. Even if Valeria doesn't particularly like Elizabeth's personality as it is now, she stands by the thought that she hadn't deserved to be murdered.

“You'll succeed, I know you will.” She hopes that she at least sounds confident, if nothing else.

“I don't know how you do it.” Sorin stops his horse and signals for her to do the same. “I don't know how you have such faith in me when I've done nothing to earn it.”

Valeria hops off her horse and lightly pats the filly. “Well, saving me on multiple occasions usually helps, as I'm sure I've mentioned before.”

“Yes, but again, that does not mean that I've deserved it. I assure you that it was for purely selfish reasons.”

“I guess we're going to have to agree to disagree on this particular topic.” He's being ridiculous again, but Valeria is curious about what selfish reasons he had for saving her. She saves him some face and changes the topic to something more neutral. She looks around at the surroundings. “Are we staying here?”

It's a wooded area much like any other on Innistrad. Nothing more than a small patch of trees surrounded by farmland. In the distance she can make out the mountain range and the shadow of a large manor house perched on it. They're so close. The anxiety that she's been pushing down since they left her house is threatening to rise to the surface again.

“Yes, until the sun rises.” Sorin's eyes flicker up to where she's looking and his mouth twists into a frown, as if sensing her apprehension. “Soon this will be over, one way or another.”

“Are you nervous?” It's hard for Valeria to tell, even after their conversation. “I mean, overall?”

“More than I want to admit.” He turns away from the mountains and settles down beneath a tree to wait out the night. His pale skin and hair stand out as starkly as his irises do in the dark. “You seem strangely calm.”

“I'm not even remotely calm,” Valeria laughs weakly. “I'm one wrong move short of panicking. I don't know why you asked me to come with. I'm not a combat mage. The most I can do is heal and set up some protection spells. Jace would have been far better for this than I am.”

“I wouldn't want anyone else with me but you. You have far more talent than you think you do.” He sounds sincere. “As for Beleren; he's to show up later. He's not exactly made for a fight, either, but his illusions work best with subterfuge.”

Valeria comes and sits beside him. “You have this planned out.”

“Actually, I'm making this up as I go.”

“Never expected that from you.”

“I'm just full of surprises.”

It's going to be a long night and she's already feeling tired. Could she afford to sleep? She chances it by leaning against Sorin. He doesn't tense at her touch. “Of course you are.”

Things are going to be changing, but she doesn't know it yet.

* * *

 “We're here.”

Sorin feels Valeria come to his side and stare up at the manor nervously.

“It's about what I thought it would look. Suitably foreboding, I think.”

“My family always had a penchant for the dramatic.” That's putting things lightly. “My grandfather is no different when it comes to it.”

“I would say that seems to be a trait of vampires, but apparently it's not just them.” Valeria's eyes follow the long trail leaning up the mountain. “I'm not going to enjoy this walk.”

Neither is he.

 

 


	12. XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh boy. 
> 
> I know I said that chapter 12 would basically be the last chapter with an epilogue to follow, but as I was writing this chapter I realized that in the end it's better to just tack on one more rather than bog everything down. So, yep, expect one last official chapter before the epilogue and enjoy this one.

The long walk up the stairs to Markov Manor is spent in relative silence as they both spend time in their heads, thinking about what they may or may not be walking into. It's occurred to Valeria that they are heading into the werewolf's den more than once on this trip. The stake made of freshly cut Hawthorne provides some comfort to her nerves. It won't protect her from all vampires, but it's good for a precaution. It's better to be safe than sorry, and Valeria has had to deal with too many bloodthirsty vampires in the last few weeks to not at least attempt to safeguard herself.

It's when they reach the gates that Valeria realizes how correct she is.

Elizabeth with a small group of guards meet them there, complete with weapons. The woman smiles wanly when her eyes go to Sorin and Valeria feels a quick jab of vicious protectiveness, which is of course silly given that Sorin is more than capable of protecting himself in this instance than she is. Nonetheless she feels it and her fingers itch to go for her weapon. Sorin, meanwhile, places a firm hand upon her shoulder to keep her from doing it.

“Elizabeth. I should have known you'd be here.”

“And yet you still come. You're either exceedingly brave of foolish to try and kill Edgar. Again. After it worked out so well for you the first time. Come with us without a fuss.”

Sorin's jaw shifts and he nods stiffly. When Valeria raises her eyebrows at him, he tightens his hold on her shoulder and she gets the hint. This is what he wants. Reluctantly, she relaxes. She follows him and their captors without a word into the manor and down a flight of stairs to where the dungeon is located. They're quickly dispatched into a cell together and the door slammed and locked.

“You two behave until I return,” Elizabeth says, turning on her boot heel and leaving there.

Sorin and Valeria settle down on the floor, equally discontent. Somewhere in the distance, she can hear the sounds of water dripping and rats scurrying. Next to her, Sorin shifts and his arm pulls her closer when he must realize that she's shivering.

“Why did you not just fight them?' she asks, huddling against his side for the scant warmth he can give, which is not much at all.

“Because this will be the easiest way to get close to Edgar. He'll come seek us out eventually. In the mean time it's best to just do as they please.” He's not happy about it, obviously, but his words make sense.

“What if one of us dies?”

“Then the other will carry on as needed.”

That sounds rather depressing, Valeria thinks, falling silent.

They sit for who knows how long. It could be hours or it could have been only minutes until she gets an idea in her head that she hopes that she won't regret. Hesitantly, Valera pulls away from Sorin's side and shifts until she's sitting in front of him. He's watching her with curiosity as she does and then goes still when she leans forward on her knees to press her lips to his.

Valeria expects that he'll push her away and lecture her about how dimwitted it is for her to be attracted to him again, something she hasn't heard in a while. It's understandable then that she's surprised when he instead returns the kiss with much more fervor than her awkwardly chaste attempt. She makes a sound and tries to match him with considerably less finesse. She hasn't had much experience with the art of kissing and suspects that she's not being the most graceful with her first real attempt at it.

Valeria wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and buries her hands in his hair -which is surprisingly soft to the touch. Sorin's large, calloused hands gently cradle the sides of her face as he lightens his kiss into something that Valeria can keep up with.

When one of his fangs accidentally cuts her lip, she gasps, and the moment comes to an abrupt screeching halt.

Sorin immediately goes still for a millisecond and pulls away like she's stabbed him with one of her sewing needles. He doesn't go far, however, and when Valeria opens her eyes she finds him staring at her as he always does, like she's mystery he cannot seem to solve; she's become quite used to it. This close to his face she can see all the various shades of gold that make up his curious irises. In the gloom of the space of Edgar's cellar they practically glow, glinting like a cat's. They're hypnotic, pulling her in like a current in the sea.

Valeria licks her swollen lips and watches his eyes dart down to them briefly before they return to meet hers

She doesn't know what to do. Should she try and continue what she's started? It's not exactly an ideal space for anything, let alone kisses, and he's the one that stopped.

“Sorin,” she sighs, sitting back on her calves. “I'm sorry, I don't know whats gotten into me.”

“Why are you apologizing?” he asks. A quizzical and somewhat bemused look crosses his face. He shakes his head and brushes a finger down the top of her nose playfully. “I was not hallucinating the action, was I? If not then I would have to say that I reciprocated.”

“I know, but I didn't want to just force it on you.” She physically aches when his touch leaves her and she suddenly has the violent urge to slam her head into the wall. How in the world does this man manage to render all her common sense silent?

“You could hardly force anything on me, Valeria.” The way he says her name makes her stomach stir. Low and affectionate. He leans back against the stone wall when Valeria scoots back and brings his knees up to rest his arms on them. “For what it's worth, I should be the one making apologies.”

“For what? Kissing me back? I'm not exactly complaining.” They're obviously not getting back to that any time soon so she settles in beside him.

“For all of this.” He gestures with a hand. “If I had not been an idiot and let my guard down, you wouldn't have been dragged into this whole affair between my family and myself.”

“I made my own choices,” Valeria retorts gently and leans to rest her head on his shoulder. “I got _myself_ involved. I have no idea what in the hells our relationship could be called, but if nothing else I'm your _friend_ and I help my friends. I value your friendship, Sorin.”

There's a sort of wistful lift to the corner of Sorin's mouth, but if he's going to say anything it's put to a stopped as the door to their prison creaks open and in steps Elizabeth with two large male vampires flanking her. Sorin's expression goes blank, hiding his thoughts behind his characteristic mask as his former childhood friend approaches them.

“What do you want?” Sorin asks before Valeria can ask for herself.

“Sorry to interrupt your romantic moment, but Edgar wants me to retrieve you.” Elizabeth's eyes narrow in on the two of them for a moment until she focuses solely on Sorin. “Clearly my all of my warnings have gone unheeded.”

“What does he want?” Sorin pointedly ignores her second comment.

“To talk? How should I know.” Elizabeth shrugs her pale shoulders. At the way Sorin's body visibly tenses, she rolls her eyes. “I would rather you come with me easily, Sorin. I hate having to use force. It's too messy. Besides, without your magic and sword, you're rather useless, and that barbed tongue of yours will only do so much for you.”

“Go with her,” Valeria says, her eyes darting to the guards in the room with them. She doubts that they've been starved as Sorin has been and for all of his strength, he won't be able to take care of two of them plus Elizabeth.

Sorin turns his head to glance at her and something passes through his eyes. She knows that he wants to fight back, not be kept as a prisoner to his grandfather's whims and grudges, but he can't. Valeria stands up quickly and steps towards Elizabeth. Her guards stiffen, hands on their weapons as if they couldn't easily catch her before she could cast anything.

“Don't you dare do anything to him. If you do I'll rip your heart out myself.” Valeria's surprised by the ferocity in her words, but she'll stand by them, even if she has to burn down the manor to do so.

“I'll give you credit where credit is due, child; you're a brave little thing. I think I'm beginning to understand why Sorin loves you so much.”

“I trust that you understand that I can say the same as her. Hurt her and you'll pay,” Sorin warns, pulling himself to his feet.

“Yes, yes. She'll be treated well. In fact, Edgar wants her to be shown to nicer quarters. I personally would rather keep her here.” Elizabeth smiles a bit. “Now, come on, darling. Edgar won't want to be kept waiting longer than necessary.”

* * *

He doesn't trust her, that much can be said, as Elizabeth walks ahead of him, her hips swaying in an exaggerated manner and the folds of her red silk gown rippling with each movement of them. He doesn't trust that she'll not try and do something to Valeria. She had not been such a jealous person when she had been a human but she radiated it in waves. He knew who she was could still be there, beneath the vampire nature that's taken hold of her like so many others, but is it worth saving that tiny sliver of her? Is it possible to save her?

Sorin's thoughts run through his head rapid fire as she leads him down various halls. His arms are being held by her personal guards, tugging at him roughly if he doesn't keep up with their brisk pace, and he decides that they'll be the first people he takes out after Edgar. He's grown far too tired of being dragged around like some piece of luggage.

He's lead again to the old ballroom where he expects to find Edgar waiting for them, and indeed the old man is there, but he's not alone. Instead there's something much worse.

The demon -for there's nothing else a thing like this can be- stands beside his grandfather.

Its a twisted looking creature that's tall and emaciated, slouching forward; its thin, pale skin hugs its bones, which are clearly visible beneath. There's a skeletal grin pulled too tightly across its face. Above the grin are two gaping holes where the nose should be and a pair of jet black eyes that are much too large to be natural. Just behind the demon, Sorin can see a long, thin tail and at the top of its head sits two curling horns. Everything about it is disproportionate as he realizes that its legs are too short and its arms too long.

It slowly tilts its head to stare at him as he's brought bodily into the room. If possible the grin widens further and it takes several halting steps towards him, circling behind him and the guards. 

“Sorin Markov,” it says in a voice that is low and rattling, spoken like a whisper and yet managing to be clearly audible, “how kind of you to grace us with your presence. I presume that I need no introduction.

“Shilgengar,” Sorin replies knowingly. He knows it instinctively even without having actually seen the thing before now.

“Indeed,” it says. It makes a gesture with a hand. “Consider this motivation to have this conversation without a fight.”

Sorin blinks as Valeria is dragged into the room, kicking and screaming her frustrations at anyone who so much as looks at her wrong. If it isn't for the two guards that hold either of her arms, she would have fought them all with her teeth and nails, and in that moment he's proud of her. She won't go down without a fight. This appears to be true until her eyes land on him and her face suddenly goes strangely slack, her body slumping forward as all that fight leaves her body all at once. There's been something cast on her, but he's not entirely sure what it might have been.

Edgar walks by her and pats her head before continuing towards Sorin. “There, now that your little pet is nice and quiet, we can continue uninterrupted,” Edgar says, pacing forward as if stalking prey.

Sorin sends him a sour look. “This is what all of this was about? Being subservient to a demon? You're aware that you've brought this whole thing on yourself when you made a deal with him in the first place.”

Shilgengar moves to stand behind him and a hand with too long fingers and nails curl over Sorin's shoulder. Supernatural chill and a feeling of sickness flows from it, and it takes a decent amount of determination not to shudder at the sensation. “Your grandfather saved you by making his deal,” the demon's harsh, hoarse voice all but whispers.

A shiver runs down his spine. “What is in it for you? I can't imagine that you're doing this simply for the use of my grandfather, especially after so many centuries.”

“I like to bide my time and observe the going-ons of this world.” The hand on Sorin's shoulder lifts, but the bone-deep chill remains. “I am older than any living creature in existence on Innistrad. You should know from experience that long-lived nature that gives us the ability to see what may come to pass. I have seen what you have done here, for these humans, going against your kind.”

Shilgengar circles around again to Sorin's front as its pit-dark eyes rove over his form. It's a deeply unsettling action and being up close and personal with the skeletal grin doesn't serve to be of any comfort. Sorin swallows thickly and raises his chin, curling his lips back to show off his fangs. “That does not answer the question I asked, demon. Enough with the games.”

One of those terrible clawed hands shoot out and grasps his jaw tight enough that he can feel the sensation of bruises forming beneath them already. He tries to jerk his head back, but the grip holding it in place does not give. Shilgengar leans forward, scrutinizing him with intensity. Its eyes flicker off to the side before they move forward to stare at Sorin once more.

“Bring that girl over here,” he says, and Valeria is led towards them, still unfocused to what is happening around her. Sorin can see one of her hands slowly forming and unforming a fist, telling him that she is trying to fight her way out of the stupor.

“Leave her be. She has nothing to do with any of this.”

“Planeswalkers are an unusual species -so very rare in the grand scheme of things- and to think that Edgar's grandson, his only living true blood relative, is amongst them. You have to imagine how surprised I was to learn about it. You have quite the reputation on your home world, Sorin. Creating angels, protecting humans, and even, evidently, falling in love with one.”

Sorin doesn't like the direction this conversation appears to be going. There are plenty of being that would use and experiment on Planeswalkers if they had the opportunity to do so. It's a threat to himself and others like him that he wants to avoid and attempted to in the past. With the way Shilgengar is speaking, he has the distinct feeling that that is what may be happening.

“What I want, as you so asked, is to leave this place. It has become rather dull to be stuck in one location for thousands of years. What I have now is the chance. If that requires the removal of whatever it is in your soul that allows you to travel from what plane to another, then I will do just that,” Shilgengar continues to say.

Sorin scowls. He wants to say that it's impossible, but it has been done in the past, rare that it might be, rarer than Planeswalkers themselves. The thing standing before him is a primordial demon as ancient as this world. Sorin has had more than enough years to study it. He knows that Shilgengar cannot have its own Spark, but that in no way says that it cannot steal it from someone who does. There's magics out there that not even Sorin is completely capable of understanding the full extent of. He glances towards Valeria.

“You intend on taking what is rightfully mine because you are bored,” Sorin speaks, straightening up his posture and smirking coolly. It's better to take the attention off of Valeria.“You're not very interesting as far as demons go. Thousands of years and this is what you come up with. How dull and unimaginative. I have to wonder how you've not been killed with wits as slow as yours.”

He imagines if Shilgengar was capable of forming more an expression than a ghoulish, macabre smile, it would have as the creature snatches its hand away from Sorin's jaw and lines crease between its brow bones, indicating an approximation of annoyance. Edgar makes an offended sound on Shilgengar's part and the vampire guards holding Valeria look to one another, uncertain as to how to act. Sorin can see focus returning to Valeria's face as she begins to fight off the spell. He's buying her time and she's closest to Edgar. As far as he's aware and his grandfather is not, she still has a stake of Hawthorne hidden somewhere on her body.

Pain pulls Sorin's attention back to Shilgengar as the blood in his body heats up to uncomfortable levels and he's left gasping for air. A warning, he figures, that he's upsetting somebody.

“It would do well for you to be silent, child, before I boil every molecule of the accursed blood in your body,” Shilgengar rasps. It removes his hand from Sorin's jaw and places it instead just above the center of his chest, pressing the long claw downwards. “You should be grateful that I gave Edgar the spell that has allowed you to live as you have. Now I ask only for this. A fair trade, I should think.”

It starts as a tingling feeling centering where Shilgengar's touch is and grows into a pulling sensation, much like the first time he planeswalked but slowed down. It's not a physical pain -it's more like there is a thread connected to his very soul that's being slowly unraveled. There's no need to ask what Shilgengar is doing, even if Sorin could get his mouth to function. It has made its intentions evident enough. He finds himself incapable of moving even a single finger, and he can clearly hear the thrumming of Valeria's heart from where he stands. Everything is simultaneously hyper-focused and dulled.

And then everything drastically gets out of hand.

* * *

He knows that Sorin, great grumpy creature that he is, isn't going to be too terribly happy that Jace is getting involved much sooner than he's meant to be, and, to make make it worse, Liliana is by his side. Liliana isn't much pleased herself about being pulled back into Sorin's 'drama'.

“All I want, Jace, is to find the last of my demonic masters and be free. Instead, I'm being forced to be involved in the centuries-spanning family feud the Markovs have going on,” Liliana tells him, exasperated. “Let it be known that the only reason I'm helping is because you asked. Remember that. Sorin and I are not friends and we owe each other absolutely nothing.”

“Well, you sort of got yourself involved when you started working with Edgar,” Jace is keen to point out. “Besides, you wouldn't have had to in the first place if you'd just come to me for help instead. It would have solved a lot of problems.”

Liliana huffs. “So you've mentioned. I had my reasons. My point is that I've helped enough and risked my life and limb for that ungrateful bastard. I don't see why I need to do it a second time.”

In the end, despite her arguments, Liliana comes with hi, which is what leads them to their currently staring up at the formidable structure that is Markov Manor. There's already tension in the chilly air, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end. Shivering, Jace sends out tendrils of his mind magic, seeking any and all available information from anyone that might be near the entrance of the double doors. It takes more digging than he wants to find what he's looking for and what he learns isn't very good.

“I found them, but it's not pretty,” he alerts Liliana, pulling his mind back and out of the vampires occupying the house. “You aren't going to like it.”

“I'm not surprised,” Liliana sighs dramatically, adjusting her skirts. “Well let us go. The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

It's one hell of a risk, taking on a manor full of vampires on their own, but worse things could happen if they don't. The last thing they need is another planeswalking demon wandering around the multiverse.

 


	13. XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You will not kill me,” Edgar says, backing up. The old man has no more tricks up his sleeves, not with three mages, an angel, and a small hoard of ghouls against him. “I am your family, Sorin. The only true family you have left. You owe me.”
> 
> “I owe you _nothing._ ”

She can't move. Not her fingers, not her mouth. The only time she can is when she's told to walk forward. Despite the lack of control she has over her body, she's still fully aware of what is going on around her, hear every word that's said and see what is happening in front of her. Mostly she can see Sorin being tormented by a large, grotesque demon. Every part of her wants to help him, even if there's not much she can do. If only she could have control over her body again. She knows it's the damn spell in her head, one that she can now remember Elizabeth casting on her during the Voldaren ball. Clearly she wasn't meant to remember it until this moment.

Behind her, Valeria can hear a fuss beginning to flair up; it's subtle at first -the sounds of feet shuffling across the floor- but there's a follow up of groaning and growling. Ghouls, she guesses, and if there's ghouls there's a necromancer. Which means only one thing to her: Liliana. Jace has come and he's brought Liliana with him. Hopefully this means that whatever the demon is up to will be brought to an end.

A scuffle breaks out and her vampire captors release her and leave her side, clearly finding the idea of ghouls rampaging about to be a much bigger issue than one small woman. Valeria manages to focus her eyes on Sorin for a moment and their gaze meets. He nods at her tiredly, confirming what is happening. Things are about to take off and she doesn't need to see them to know it.

Sure enough, after the ghouls come Jace and Liliana, welding their magics to fight back the angry vampires that must have followed them to the ballroom. Liliana controls her ghouls with a spiteful glee, happy to take down those that come at her. Jace is far more subdued and focused on manipulating the weaker minds, helping keep them away from Liliana when her hoard cannot. It's truly something and Valeria never is not awed by it. At one point Jace looks at her and the tension on her body suddenly disappears. With a gasp of relief, Valeria sinks to the floor.

She doesn't miss the flicker of relief that passes over Sorin's face, but neither one of them really gets the opportunity to take in this little victory as both are quickly reminded of the demon and elder vampire still in the room and not currently involved in the skirmish of undead behind them. A monumentally stupid idea comes into Valeria's mind all at once and, honestly, acting upon it is most certainly a death sentence, but what other choice does she have? The others are occupied and Sorin is in position to do anything of the sort with the demon's claws pressed against his heart. Nothing comes from not taking risks. So she does the only thing she can she feels like she can do. She reaches into the folds of her skirts and tightly grasps the stake hidden there.

She gauges the distance between herself and Edgar. It's not much of one and he's focusing his attention partly on Sorin and partly on the conflict. Taking a deep breath, Valeria jumps to her feet, turn and sprints towards Edgar. There's an opening near his chest where his heart is and she swings the stake in an arc, aiming downwards. For a split second she thinks that it'll work. That is until he suddenly disappears and the stake hits nothing but air. Her arms are yanked behind her back and the piece of sharpened wood is plucked from her grasp.

“I will commend you for your bravery, girl, but I've not lived as long as I have without my tricks.” Edgar holds her arms with one hand and sticks the point of the stake against the soft underside of her chin. “I can kill you now, or maybe I will do my grandson a courtesy and anoint you as Olivia wanted.”

There's an unmistakable growl from Sorin. “You would not live long enough to do it. I'll rip your rotting heart.”

"And just how do you intend on doing that, Sorin, when you'll be quite busy?”

Any response Sorin might have had to the remark is cut off as he yells out in pain. It is likely that the demon has gone back to what he was previously inflicting on him. Valeria squeezes her eyes shut and tries her best to block it out. She can't do anything now. She will ether be killed or turned into something that she doesn't want to be. Either way this could be the end, not just for her but for Sorin as well because there is little doubt in her mind that whatever the demon is doing is killing him.

“ _How are you holding up?”_ Jace's voice comes filtering into Valeria's head and she would have jumped if she didn't expect that sort of thing by now.

“ _I'm fine. I am far more concerned about Sorin. What is that thing doing to him?”_ she thinks to him. It's difficult to keep her thoughts focused enough to get her point across.

Luckily, Jace seems to understand enough of what she's trying to say. His eyes are glowing strangely when he looks at her. He's framed by the bloodbath that is his and Liliana's fight and it's unfortunate that the zombies are not holding up incredibly well. No surprise. They're rotting corpses dealing with creatures far more faster and and stronger, effortlessly tearing the ghouls apart.

“ _Removing his spark,”_ Jace supplies with a frown as he moves a large, fish-like illusion amongst the vampires. “ _From my understanding, the demon wants it. Demons cannot naturally have their own and so taking it from another being is as close as it can come. I'm not sure on the process, but you are right; it's slowly killing Sorin.”_

“ _How do we stop it?”_ That's the most important question. She cannot move with Edgar restraining her and Jace and Liliana are occupied with their fight. Valeria watches as Liliana laughs and does, well, _something_ to a vampire. _“We have to do something.”_

“ _I might...have an idea.”_

“ _What is it?”_

Jace doesn't need to answer as an angel comes crashing through one of the stained glass windows at the far end of the room, shards raining down to the floor. Every single person and unperson in the room stops what they're doing and turns to see the new arrival swoop fully into the room and land, spear gleaming in the candlelight.

Avacyn; Avacyn's come to help.

* * *

Through the haze of pain centered in the middle of his chest, Sorin registers Avacyn's arrival, a smile forming on his lips. He's not certain if she felt the trouble or was summoned to their location, but either option is proving a glad tiding in his eyes. It could not have been better timed, he thinks. His angel will protect Valeria as well as the others as she's meant to do. She will remove Edgar and Shilgengar from the equation, as Sorin suspects that he's not going to survive this ordeal. He's made his peace with it, really. He's lived for a very long time. Death is inevitable even for a creature like himself. His only lament is causing Valeria grief.

He closes his eyes and waits for it.

To his surprise -and relief- the end does not come so soon and he opens his eyes in time to watch Shilgengar go careening into a wall, slamming into it hard enough that a crater is left at the impact. He watches the demon peel itself out of the hole left and glower darkly at Avacyn, her pure white wings spread wide as she glides towards it. Her spear of Moonsilver is aimed at its chest and glows with her power. All around her the fighting has stopped. The vampires look at each other and very quickly scramble to leave the room, valuing the survival over anything else. Even his grandfather has turned to watch.

“You shall cease this, demon,” Avacyn speaks in a low, clear, and calm voice. Her expression is one of carefully kept neutrality.

Shilgengar scowls as much as it can and gestures. The pain in Sorin's chest returns and he sinks to his knees. It can do this even at a distance? The spark within him pulses and grows hot, and Sorin lifts a hand to press it against his chest. He looks up to see Valeria staring at him with something unreadable in her expression, but there is no missing the sadness and determination there as well.

She mouths, _“I'm sorry.”_

Near him, he can feel Avacyn's beam of holy light shooting towards Shilgengar. There's a flash of light and something strange happens. The pulsing sensation in his chest suddenly stops. He feels off, unusual, that he tells himself is because of the magic Shilgengar was using. That is until he realizes that Valeria is gone, Edgar looks as confused as he, and then it all makes sense. Shilgengar did indeed remove his spark, but it did not go to it.

It went to her.

“Sorin, if you plan on doing anything, now would be a wonderful time for you to do it,” Liliana calls out to him from where she's standing. She's sent her ghouls -the ones still in one piece- shambling towards Edgar.

He shoves down the cloud of fatigue and forces himself to his feet, pinning Edgar under his stare.

“You will not kill me,” Edgar says, backing up. The old man has no more tricks up his sleeves, not with three mages, an angel, and a small hoard of ghouls against him. “I am your family, Sorin. The only true family you have left. You owe me.”

Sorin scoffs. “You have not been my family since the day you did this to me.” He feels no regret when he charges forward and grabs Edgar by the throat, nor any when he shoves a hand through his chest to yank out his wretched heart. “I owe you _nothing.”_

It's done.

Sorin drops Edgar's body. He's covered in dark, cold blood and breathing hard as he stares at the heart still in his hand. He expected to feel more, but he feels nothing but bitterness.

He barely acknowledges them when Liliana and Jace join him, eying Edgar's body warily as if he's going to be getting back any time soon.

“Shilgengar's gone,” Jace tells him quietly, awkwardly shifting. “Avacyn's scared him away.”

“Hm,” Sorin replies.

“I wouldn't be surprised if he tries something else down the line.” A beat passes and Jace puts a hand on Sorin's shoulder. “Valeria will be alright. She's stronger than she believes.”

Sorin jerks off Jace's hand and steps back away from him. “Maybe she is, but she is still alone, somewhere out there. She was not meant to become on of us. It is not her Spark that ignited.”

Jace doesn't appear offended and drops his arm back to his side. “It's better for her to have it than that demon. She'll find someone to help her. For such a large multiverse it sure is small. There's a lot of us out there to teach her what she needs to know and, well, she'll find her way back here eventually.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Sorin asks sullenly. “I thought so long about killing Edgar that it never once occurred to me what to do about this world when he was gone. He was the patriarch of my bloodline and of the vampires. Our creator.”

“I guess it falls to you now,” Jace suggests. “As far as I'm aware you've been taking care of Innistrad for centuries. This isn't much different.”

“Besides,” Liliana chimes in. “It's not as if you'll be able to go anywhere any time soon.”

Sorin snorts bitterly. “Yes, you are right.”

He doesn't have a Spark anymore, that much he knows. Fitting, he supposes. He became one at Edgar's betrayal and lost it with his ending, as if he's been spending these many years simply planning to become strong enough to do it. Nonsense and a hollow victory. Sorin's eyes flicker to the doorway where Elizabeth stands. Her beautiful face is impassive and cold and her golden eyes study the scene before she turns on her heel. She'll be back, he thinks. She has just as much to think about as he does. Wounds aren't easy to heal for either of them.

He turns back to Avacyn as she walks towards him and reaches out to take his wrists. Without a word she runs her fingers over the bands and they fall like lead to the floor. Almost at once he feels mana rush back into his veins.

“Thank-you,” he says to her.

Avacyn nods, turns, and flies back the way she came. She'll be looking for Shilgengar. Jace is surely right; they have not seen the last of it. Sorin sighs and rubs at his wrists. There's so much he needs to do. It won't be easy to fix the damage that Edgar has done. His bloodline and the others will not be so quick to follow Sorin, but he has plenty enough time to convince them.

“Will you be able to handle things from here?” Jace asks.

“More or less. This is my home. I need to take responsibility for it.”

Besides, all he has is time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you go *falls over*, it's done. I'm so sorry that this last chapter is so short, it was originally supposed to be on the last chapter, but I was getting fatigued and realized it might be better as its own thing so yeah. 
> 
> There's not much for me to say, really. Shout-out to those who've read this, both to those of you who commented and to those who just poked their nose in for a while out of curiosity. I appreciate any and all attention this project gets. The fanfic side of the MtG fandom is a small, quiet one.
> 
> Just to let you know, there will be an epilogue at some point and the Memento Mori series will continue on over time. I'm rather attached to this 'verse and have more stories to tell from it. Now, excuse me while I take a much needed MtG writing break and start work on my Star Wars fic.
> 
> Until then, later folks!


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